


you were the home

by holtzbabe



Series: love is a polaroid [3]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Beaches, F/F, Gambling, Hospitals, PR problems, Road Trips, Truth or Consequences - Freeform, additional tags as the story unfolds, lecture tours, poor decisions, the ectobus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:38:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe
Summary: It's been a year since Erin and Holtz made a promise to one another.And now: that promise faces its final test. It's time to hit the road one last time and go back to where it all began.This time, there's no turning back.





	1. bad liar

**Author's Note:**

> I can't help but feel like writing this series is a lot like giving birth. You know, where you go through hell for nine months and then through extreme pain and while you're doing it you're like NEVER AGAIN, but then when you have the baby there's this rush of endorphins and shit that makes you forget all about it so you'll be tricked into doing it again? Yeah. I've never had a baby and don't plan to, but this feels a lot like that. I *just* came out of the hell of writing the last installment, so tell me why I'm doing this again? Who knows. Not me. This is how you commit to something, though

[bad liar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a40XLhSUREo)

_did all my dreams never mean one thing?_

_does happiness lie in a diamond ring?_

_oh, I’ve been askin' for problems_

_I wage my war on the world inside, I take my gun to the enemy's side_

“Where do you see the future of paranormal science heading over the coming years?”

“Well, I’d love to say that we’ve also discovered the key to predicting the future, but no such luck,” Abby says. “So I have no clue.”

Laughter from the audience. The flash on someone’s camera goes off.

“People have been trying to prove the existence of ghosts for most of human history,” Patty says. “There are mentions of ghosts in ancient texts from the Mesopotamians, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans. They’re in the Torah, the Bible. They appear in folklore and mythology across the entire world. Stories, plays, artwork. The idea of a supernatural entity is a cultural universal—that means it’s common to all human cultures worldwide. As a field of study, it has limitless potential. Think of what different cultural approaches could bring to the table. We could be looking at an age of really incredible discoveries about the paranormal.”

Erin nods. “The work we’ve been doing in the last few years has barely scratched the surface of all that’s conceivable. We’ve been looking at the field through our own lenses. For me, it’s through the lens of particle physics. My colleagues have their own ways of seeing things based on their own expertise and areas of interest. We are the smallest slice of what’s possible. People have been crediting us as the founders of the field of paranormal science, but that’s not true. Everyone who came before us laid the groundwork. We’re just the team who was able to definitively, _scientifically_ prove that ghosts exist. All we can hope is that our research inspires a new generation of paranormal research that will far exceed what the four of us are capable of.”

The crowd applauds.

“Next question?” their moderator asks.

The girl in line next steps up to the microphone. “Hi, my question is for Dr. Holtzmann?”

To Erin’s left, Holtz sits up in her seat and leans so close to her microphone that her mouth practically touches it. “Yesss?”

The girl lifts her chin. “Can I give you my number?”

Laughter sprinkles throughout the room. Someone in the back wolf-whistles.

Holtz grins. “What’s your name?”

“Alex.”

“Hey Alex. S’up?”

More laughter.

“I’m flattered,” Holtz continues, “but I am _very_ happily married to the ever gorgeous and talented Dr. Gilbert here.”

She grabs Erin’s hand from where it’s resting on the table and lifts it to kiss Erin’s knuckles right where her ring is. Erin ducks her head to hide her smile.

A collective _aww_ sweeps across the room. Even so, there are several disappointed faces.

“Worth a shot,” Alex says, then steps away from the microphone.

“We have time for a few more questions,” the moderator says.

About twenty people stand up and flood towards the microphone in the centre aisle.

On the table beside her, Holtz’s phone vibrates and lights up. Erin glances at it as Holtz releases her hand and grabs it. She holds it behind the table and reads the notification, brow creasing, then abruptly pushes her chair back, stands, and walks towards the closest door, taking her phone with her.

Erin watches her go with concern, wondering if she should follow.

The room watches her departure as well, and half the people who just joined the line immediately go back to their seats, not even pretending like their questions weren’t for Holtz.

Abby is prattling on about ionization in response to whatever the last question was, but Erin isn’t listening. She’s staring at the door.

Holtz comes back in a minute later and rejoins the table. She’s noticeably paler than she was when she left.

Erin covers her microphone with her hand and leans close.

“Everything okay?” she asks under her breath.

Holtz shakes her head microscopically. “After the panel,” she says quietly.

Erin bites her lip.

“Last question,” the moderator announces.

It’s another girl, a teenager this time, wearing a clearly handmade Ghostbusters uniform to match theirs.

“I think we’re all dying to know: what are you guys gonna do next?”

They all exchange glances.

“Well, we’re gonna finish this tour,” Patty says. “We have eight stops left.”

“And then we’re going to get back to work,” Abby says. “We’re hoping New York hasn’t fallen apart in our absence. We don’t have anything else planned beyond that.” She looks down the line at the rest of them. “Don’t worry: you haven’t seen the last of us.”

Erin takes in Holtz’s still, silent form beside her and hopes that that’s true.

“Well, that concludes our panel today. Let’s thank the Ghostbusters for answering our questions today,” the moderator says.

Loud applause.

“There will be a signing and photo opportunity at 3:30. Thank you all for coming,” the moderator says.

The room fills with noise as people begin to pack up and stand.

Erin quickly gathers her purse. “Hey, um, we’re going to duck out. We’ll see you guys later.”

Abby frowns. “What about the signing?”

“Don’t worry,” Erin says, shooting another glance at Holtz. “We’ll be back in time.”

“You better,” Abby says.

Holtz follows after her silently as they quickly make for the exit. Erin waits until they’re out in the hallway.

“What’s going on?”

“Mom took another turn,” Holtz says grimly. “Dad took her to the hospital this morning.”

Erin curses under her breath. “I’m sorry.”

Holtz takes hold of her hand as they walk. They walk in silence until they reach a door to the outside and then step out into the summer air.

“What are you thinking?” Erin asks.

“I don’t know,” Holtz says. “I don’t really know what to think.”

“Are they still going through with the party?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Do you want to go early?”

Holtz looks at her. “What about the rest of the tour?”

“You know it doesn’t matter,” Erin says. “Your family is way more important. We could always reschedule the rest of the stops, or Abby and Patty could go on without us.”

The corner of Holtz’s mouth quirks up. “The fans would be crushed. We all know I’m the reason they’ve been coming out.”

Erin doesn’t even try to deny it. “Fine. We’d reschedule, like I said.”

They find a bench outside and take a seat. Holtz leans forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped under her chin.

“Dad didn’t make it sound like I had to drop everything and run. He just wanted to let me know.”

Erin bites her lip. “That doesn’t matter, though. If you feel like you do want to go now, we can go. Plans change.”

There’s a long pause.

“I don’t know,” Holtz says finally. “I really don’t know the answer. Part of me wants to go now, and the other part of me knows that we’ll be there soon anyway. It seems dumb to uproot everything just to get a few extra days with her.”

Erin hesitates. “But will you regret not taking those extra few days when you had a chance?”

“She’s not going to drop dead tomorrow, Erin.”

Erin flinches. “I know. I’m just saying…time is precious, right? We can finish the tour any old time.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Holtz releases her hands and stands up. “Come on. We should get going before we miss the signing.”

Erin stands too. “Okay. Love you.”

Holtz leans in for a quick kiss. “Love you too.”

They make it back in time for the autograph panel as promised, and Abby and Patty eye them but don’t press for details. Erin can tell that Holtz is distracted, but she puts on a happy face for the fans anyway, making sure to take the time to talk to each one for a bit even though it holds up the line.

“Dr. Gilbert?”

Erin is torn from her thoughts and looks up at the young boy waiting for her.

“Hi,” she says with a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Xavier.”

“Nice to meet you, Xavier,” Erin says, writing out his name and then signing her own.

Holtz flops onto her back on the motel room bed and lets out a long sigh.

“I still don’t know what to do,” she says before Erin can prompt her.

“What’s your gut telling you?”

“My gut…my gut is telling me that I want Chipotle.”

“Funny,” Erin says. She comes and sits on the edge of the bed beside her wife. “Really, though. What are you feeling?”

Holtz’s phone buzzes. “Hold that thought,” she says, swiping to answer the call and holding it to her ear without sitting up. “Hey, what’s up?”

She’s quiet for a minute, just listening.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Thanks for telling me. Yeah. Alright. I’ll see you soon. Bye.”

She hangs up and sits up.

Erin waits expectantly.

“Jaclyn just changed her flights,” Holtz says.

Erin bites her lip. “Okay.”

“I feel like she wanted me to do the same. Change my plans.”

“Do you want to?” Erin asks again, feeling like they’re going in circles and not getting anywhere.

Holtz pauses, and Erin expects her to say _I don’t know_ again.

“No,” Holtz says finally. “I want to keep going.”

“Okay,” Erin says cautiously.

“You think that’s the wrong decision,” Holtz says. Not a question.

“There is no wrong or right decision,” Erin says. “I promise. It’s about you and what you want.”

“You said I might regret it though. Not taking the extra days when I had them.”

Erin has the bedspread bunched in her fist. She releases it and smooths out the wrinkles. “I didn’t mean that,” she says. “That’s not my place to say.”

Holtz hesitates. “Would you regret it, if it was you?”

Erin stills.

“Sorry,” Holtz says immediately. “I know that’s kind of insensitive. You don’t have to imagine.”

“What?” Erin squeaks out, heart beginning to race.

“Your parents,” Holtz says. She rests her hand on Erin’s thigh to comfort her, clearly noticing Erin’s panic. “I know you’ve been regretting it. Not trying to see them sooner. Before they moved and we lost the ability to track them down.”

“Right,” Erin manages to get out. Her palms are sweating. She wipes them discreetly on the bedspread. “I do. Regret that.”

She shuts her eyes briefly. Her stomach twists painfully.

“You’ll get closure,” Holtz assures her, like she’s been assuring her for the past year. “I’m sure they’ll call you up one of these days and make everything right. I’m sure they miss you.”

Erin’s eyes fly open. “We’re not supposed to be talking about me,” she says quickly. “We were talking about you. And your mom.”

Holtz takes her hand off Erin’s thigh and grabs her hand instead, running her thumb along the back of it absentmindedly.

“To answer your question,” Erin says softly, “I don’t know if I would regret it. I don’t know if _you’ll_ regret it. All I know is that it’s really easy to play _what-if_ and wonder if you made the right decision or if things would be different if you made better choices. I can’t predict the future, Holtz. Neither can you. If this is what you want to do, continue the tour and go to Jacksonville on schedule, then that’s what we’ll do. I’m behind you on this. And if you change your mind tomorrow or the next day or five minutes from now, I’ll be right there with you.”

Holtz nods slowly.

“And you’re right,” Erin adds. “You have time. If your dad thought you needed to be there as soon as possible, he would have told you. They’re still going to have the party—that’s saying something. It’s going to be okay.”

Holtz nods again. She leans her head on Erin’s shoulder. Erin kisses the top of it.

“You’re the most supportive wife in the world,” Holtz mumbles. “Thank you. For being honest with me. I needed to hear that.”

“I could never lie to you,” Erin says, and as she says it, her stomach burns again.

“Where are we again?”

Erin looks up over her reading glasses and holds her place in her book with her thumb. “Denver. Did you forget already?”

Holtz looks over her shoulder from where she’s standing in front of the window. “You can’t blame me. This is like America: Speedrun. Where did we speak yesterday, again? Kansas City?”

They haven’t actually been going that fast (or at least no faster than they went on their trips the previous two summers), but Erin knows it’s not Holtz’s fault that she can’t keep track of where they’ve been. She’s had a lot on her mind. She hasn’t exactly been super present during the tour so far.

Erin nods. “We haven’t even gotten to the worst of it yet,” she says. “Tomorrow’s our first long day.”

“Today _wasn’t_ our long day? We drove for like eight and a half hours today!”

Erin grabs her bookmark and sticks it in her book, closing it and setting it down on the nightstand. “And tomorrow we’re driving for 14 hours.”

Holtz pales.

Erin pats the bed beside her. “Come on. We should really go to sleep. We’re leaving at 4:00am.”

“Why did we schedule it like this?” Holtz whines as she leaves the window and ambles over.

“Because we wanted to do a 14-city tour in as short of a time frame as possible. Driving instead of flying. I did the best I could, okay?”

“I know,” Holtz mumbles as she crawls into bed beside her. “You did a _great_ job planning all this. It’s all just…a little chaotic.”

Erin sighs. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry. The second half will be a little more leisurely than the first, I promise.”

Holtz snuggles closer, resting her cheek on Erin’s chest. “Thank you.” She breathes there for a few seconds. “Five things,” she says sleepily.

“Now? We should really sleep,” Erin says.

“There’s always time to work on our relationship,” Holtz says, pulling back enough that Erin can see her face.

How is Erin supposed to say no to that? “Okay. Five things. Topic?”

Holtz hums. “Oh, got it! Five ways I can support you over the next week. Go.”

Erin pauses, wracking her brain. She’s really not the one who needs support this week, but this particular therapy exercise has to go both ways. “Okay. Umm…remind me to take a breather every once in a while. Let me know when you need a break from driving so I don’t worry about you. Make sure I leave room for fun, even if it takes us off schedule. Keep me in the loop about what’s going on with your mom. And…uhhhhhhh…” She thinks, then smiles. “I know. Tell me you love me at least once a day.”

“Done.” Holtz leans in to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Your turn. Five ways I can support you over the next week.”

“Tell me you love me at least _twice_ a day,” Holtz says with a crooked grin. “Prompt me to give you family updates in case I forget. Every day, tell me how far we’re driving and where we’re going next so I can prepare. Check in and ask me how I’m doing. Annnnddddddd…” She runs her hand up Erin’s arm thoughtfully. “Give me space when I ask for it, but don’t let me run away.”

“Done,” Erin echoes. “I love you.”

Holtz kisses her again.

Holtz falls asleep almost immediately after Erin shuts the light off, but Erin lies awake, holding her wife in her arms.

It’s been almost a year since their last trip.

It’s been a difficult year, but not in the way that the previous year was. This year was difficult because of how hard they’ve been working. It hasn’t been easy—keeping their new marriage afloat, rebuilding their relationship, working through their issues, improving their communication—but they’ve been _doing it_. They committed to it—to each other. Holtz especially.

It’s Holtz who has really made the changes in her life. She started going to therapy, started back on medication, started to share more, started to communicate, started to let Erin in again, started to work through her issues, started to build up her self-worth.

They started attending therapy together, too. They wanted to be able to have the tools and strategies they needed to move forward. It gives them an outlet, a place to go and talk about what’s working and what’s not working. It brings them outside of their own little bubble, gives them a third party and objective opinion when they need it. It’s been very helpful so far.

They’ve been working so hard. _Holtz_ has been working so hard. Erin is so proud of her and all that she’s accomplished. All the promises she made—she’s kept them.

She started mending her relationships with her family, too. She started returning phone calls. Building them back into her life.

That’s when she found out about her mom.

She’s been sick for a long time. That’s nothing new. Holtz won’t tell her exactly what it is because she says it doesn’t matter, but Erin knows that it’s a neuromuscular disease of some sort and that it’s degenerative. And she knows that it’s gotten considerably worse since they saw her two years ago.

The lecture tour has been in the works since they returned from their trip last year, and once they heard that Holtz’s parents were planning a big family reunion in July, they built the tour around it. It wasn’t even a question. They both knew that they had to go.

Erin is anxious about returning to Jacksonville. It’ll be her first time seeing Holtz’s parents since she met them two years ago, and it will be her first time seeing Jaclyn and Jacob since the less-than-ideal visits last summer. It’ll also be her first time meeting Holtz’s other sister, Jenna.

But it’s more than just that that’s making her anxious. She’s worried, really worried, about what the reunion is going to do to Holtz. How she’s going to react. How it’s going to affect their relationship. So far, the news has only brought them closer together. Holtz hasn’t retreated into herself like she did last year—a true testament to the changes she’s made to her coping mechanisms and how she’s evolved.

But what’s going to happen when she actually sees all of them? What’s going to happen when she sees her mom and realizes that she’s in danger of losing her?

That realization is going to change her.

Erin doesn’t want Holtz to change.

She’s been doing so well. All year, she’s been pulling herself together.

And Erin—Erin has been the one falling apart.

Erin jolts awake to the blaring of her alarm. Holtz is still wrapped around her, skin sweaty where it touches Erin’s. It’s still dark out.

Erin grabs blindly for her phone and silences the alarm, then nudges Holtz, who groans.

“Come on,” she murmurs. “We gotta get up.”

“Five more miiiinutes.”

Erin slides out from her embrace, knowing that Holtz won’t want to stay in bed if she’s not there. Sure enough, Holtz sits up and rubs her eyes groggily.

Erin is already halfway changed, pajama top off. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I told you this day was going to be long.”

Holtz yawns and stands up. “Can I drive in my pajamas?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Erin promises as she clasps her bra and tugs a shirt over her head. “As long as you’re awake enough to drive.”

“Great,” Holtz grunts. “In that case, I’m gonna go find some coffee.”

“I’ll pack and meet you outside.”

Holtz salutes sleepily and slips from the room.

Once Erin has thrown their belongings into their suitcase, she drags it out of the door of their motel room. The fresh air outside helps her wake up as she walks towards the office to check out.

Abby and Patty are waiting there, chatting with Holtz as she mixes four cups of instant coffee at the little station.

Erin gives their key to the guy at the desk and accepts one of the coffees from Holtz.

“Ready to go, pizza dough?”

Erin smiles over the rim of her styrofoam cup. “I don’t know, piccolo.”

Abby groans. “Stop that. It’s too early for flirting.”

Holtz winks at Erin as the four of them leave the office. “Roger that, vampire bat.”

“Alley cat,” Erin offers.

“Thermostat,” Holtz counters.

“Bureaucrat.”

“Laundromat.”

“Baseball b—”

“ _Stop.”_ Patty waves her arms. “I cannot deal with this shit for 14 hours today.”

“Sorrrrryyyyy,” Holtz sings. “You have our permission to irritate us all day in retaliation. You know—” She pauses for emphasis, looking back at Erin with a shit-eating grin— “ _tit for tat_.”

Without either of them breaking their stride, they high-five each other. Well—more of a fist-bump, coffees in hand.

“Kill me now,” Abby says.

They reach the vehicle. Holtz unlocks the door, pulls it open, and steps off to the side of it.

“All aboarrrrd the Ectobus,” she calls, smacking the side of the vehicle twice, a few flecks of paint falling to the pavement.

Patty rolls her eyes as she steps inside.

It’s not a bus, not really—it’s an old RV that Holtz spent the last month remodeling into a portable containment unit. There are no ghosts currently in it—but the trip is far from over. They want to come back with at least one out-of-state spectre for research purposes.

Abby follows Patty into the Ectobus, and then it’s just Erin and Holtz left outside.

Holtz raises an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth quirked up.

“You ready for this?”

Erin exhales and rolls her shoulders back.

“I’m ready,” she says.

It’s only a little bit of a lie.

_so look me in the eyes, tell me what you see_

_perfect paradise, tearing at the seams_

_I wish I could escape it, I don't wanna fake it_

_wish I could erase it, make your heart believe, but I'm a bad liar_


	2. machine

[machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BahtnT13vH8)

_'cause I've been wondering_

_when you gonna see I'm not for sale_

_I've been questioning_

_when you gonna see I'm not a part of your machine_

“Tell me why we’re driving _through_ Wyoming to get from Colorado to Utah? You’ve seen Colorado and Utah, right? They’re right beside each other.”

Erin doesn’t look up from the map in her lap. “This is the fastest route to Salt Lake City.”

“Okay, I’m not going to debate you on this, because I know you’ve done your research, but it just seems so out of the _way_ …”

Erin snorts.

“When are we stopping for breakfast?” Abby calls from the booth in the middle of the RV, where she’s seated and reading a book.

Holtz nods excitedly. “ _Excellent_ question. Seconded. When’s breakfast?”

“Not for a couple hours,” Erin warns. “We’re stopping in Rawlins.”

“Is that in Wyoming? That sounds like it’s in Wyoming.”

“It’s in Wyoming,” Erin confirms.

Abby and Holtz groan in unison. Patty is asleep, head lolled to one side, across the table from Abby.

“We’ll be there just after 7:30,” Erin says cheerfully. “Maybe sooner.”

“Say no more,” Holtz says, leaning on the gas.

They eat a hurried meal at a diner in Rawlins. They order immediately upon arriving, Erin having downloaded the menu online in preparation for the trip and then forced everyone to decide on what they were getting while they were driving. This is the level of planning that has gone into this trip. Every second is scheduled.

She gets the Oatmeal; Patty, 3 Slices of French Toast; Abby, the Sunrise Skillet; and Holtz, the Ranch Breakfast. They are in and out in half an hour flat.

Their lecture in Salt Lake City is scheduled for 2:00, with a signing and photo opportunity to follow. They make it into town by 12:30, just in time to get settled, shake off the eight hours of driving they just did, and grab some lunch before they’re expected at the convention center.

Abby yawns into her soup. “Why aren’t we staying here tonight, again?”

Erin takes a bite of her sandwich and chews before answering. “Because we’re lecturing in San Diego tomorrow.”

“Right, but why aren’t we driving there tomorrow?” Patty asks.

“Because you guys wanted me to schedule fun into this trip,” Erin says.

The other three exchange glances.

“It sounds so enjoyable when you put it that way,” Abby says.

Erin throws a balled-up napkin at her face. “You’ll be thanking me tonight.”

Holtz woops loudly.

“My question is for Dr. Holtzmann?”

“Yello.”

The girl at the microphone ducks her head and pushes her hair behind her ear. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.”

“I used to love watching you on the Ghostbusters Snapchat all the time, but lately you haven’t been posting at all. Why did you stop?”

“Welllllll…” Holtz glances sideways at Erin. “I dunno what to say. We’ve been busy this year. Haven’t had much time. I’ve been trying to update on the road but we’re pretty booked solid, so if I’m not driving or sitting at a table like this, I’m probably asleep. Not too much time to film.” She smiles. “Maybe it’s time for me to hand the camera off to one of my colleagues.”

The girl nods, happy with that answer, and steps aside to let the next person up.

“What’s the funniest story you have from the tour so far?” they ask.

They all look at each other and start to laugh.

“I know mine,” Holtz says with a grin. “The border. Our, uh, first day on the road…we left New York early, drove to Boston, lectured there, and then set off for Canada. We had a lecture booked in Toronto the next day, but were arriving that evening and staying overnight. We got to the border and didn’t anticipate any problems, but turns out our Ectobus arose some suspicion. We ended up getting carted off to an inspection site so they could search the entire vehicle from top to bottom.”

“They didn’t find anything,” Erin assures the crowd.

“Butttttt they were a little concerned about the containment unit I rigged up in the back. It was empty at the time—still is—but it turns out that transporting ghosts across international borders miiiiiiiight be a titch illegal.”

“It’s a grey area,” Erin says. “There’s no legal precedent, but there are strict rules governing the transportation of human remains across the border, and while spectral entities aren’t technically captured in the definition…”

“Long story short, we were detained at the border for three hours because we had—” Holtz breaks off, snickering— “to _prove_ that we didn’t have a ghost in the containment unit. They didn’t believe us. Even though we told them that they would be able to see if there was a ghost in there.”

“I, for one, see that as a win,” Abby says. “A few years ago people thought we were crazy for saying that we had captured a ghost. Actually, people _still_ think we’re crazy for saying that we’ve captured ghosts. But now we’re nearly getting arrested because people don’t believe that we _don’t_ have a ghost! Progress.”

Patty shakes her head. “We gotta get ourselves a lawyer.”

The rest of them nod in agreement.

“Anyway, that was _my_ favourite moment so far,” Holtz says. “Lucky for us, we had no similar problems coming back into the country. America doesn’t care about cross-border ghost transportation, apparently.”

“Well, _I_ think that the funniest moment so far was when we got lost in Boston,” Patty says. “Even though Abby _and_ Holtzy both lived there for years. And Miss ‘I got a map, don’t worry!’ assured us we didn’t need a GPS.”

Erin scoffs. “Hey, _I_ didn’t get us lost. Holtz was purposefully ignoring my directions because she thought she knew where we were going.”

“Unsubstantiated,” Holtz says.

“You guys are all wrong,” Abby says. “ _The_ funniest moment of the trip so far was that security guard in Chicago who thought we were a girl group. The ‘Spice Women,’ to be precise.”

The rest of them burst into laughter at the memory.

“Okay, yeah, that was good,” Patty agrees.

“In fairness to him, we basically are,” Holtz says. She looks down the table at them. “Wait, okay, this is very important—Patty, you’re Posh Spice.”

Patty nods. “Obviously.”

“Abby, you’re clearly Sporty,” Holtz continues, “because you were captain of _multiple_ varsity teams in college and you’re more athletic than the rest of us combined.”

Abby nods as well. “Accurate assessment.”

“Erin, you’re Ginger. That goes without saying.”

“I am more than my hair colour, Holtz,” Erin says.

Holtz ignores her. “And that would make meeeeeeee…”

Several overlapping voices shout out their opinion from the crowd. Holtz gives them all a look.

“Come _on_ , you guys. It’s no question. I _am_ Scary.”

“Yes,” the three of them say in unison.

“So is Kevin Baby Spice?” Erin jokes.

They all exchange a look, then answer at the same time.

“Yep.” “Absolutely.” “Yes, that is correct.” “Clearly.”

Holtz claps her hands together. “Glad we cleared that up. Next question?”

A girl in her twenties leans in to the microphone. “Hey. My question is for Holtz.”

Erin bristles a bit. Something about strangers calling her wife _Holtz_ gets to her. It’s a nickname that’s reserved for friends—or it should be, in her eyes. It’s more professional if they call her Dr. Holtzmann.

Or maybe she’s just bitter and jealous. She’s sure this girl doesn’t mean any harm by it.

“I’ve been getting all the questions,” Holtz says. “Is it something you could ask one of my teammates? They’re pretty cool people too, just saying.”

The girl at the mic stares at her for a second, then turns an icy gaze to Erin. “Fine. Dr. Gilbert, why did _you_ marry Holtz?”

“Um.” Erin falters at the girl’s tone and the unexpected question. “Because I…loved her?”

“ _Loved?_ ” the girl repeats.

“Love,” Erin says quickly. “I still love her. Obviously. I just meant—”

“Doesn’t sound very convincing. Were you drunk when you got married?”

“ _What?_ ”

Holtz waves her hand. “Whoa, whoa—”

“You got married in _Vegas_ , and nobody even knew you were _dating_.”

“Okay, first of all,” Holtz says, an edge to her voice, “we are private about our personal lives for a reason, and I don’t think this is appropriate. But for your information, we had been dating for a year when we got married last summer, and no, we weren’t _drunk_. Jesus.”

Erin nudges her shoulder, trying to communicate that it’s time to stop talking.

Luckily, Patty jumps in. “Next question?”

The girl doesn’t move from her spot, eyes on Holtz. “I think you could do better.”

Holtz sits there in stunned silence for a few seconds, then erupts. “ _Excuse_ me? Are you kidding me? How _dare_ you say that. You have no right. You don’t know _anything—”_

Erin’s hand is on Holtz’s shoulder. “Wait, I want to hear her out.”

Holtz gives her an angry look. “Erin—”

“No, I want to hear why she thinks I’m not enough for you.” Erin sits up attentively and juts her chin at the girl. “Go on.”

“Well, you’re uptight,” the girl says, words biting.

Holtz splutters. “She’s not—”

Erin doesn’t let her face change. “Okay, what else?”

“You’re the loser of the group. Holtz should be with someone much cooler.”

Holtz has stood from her chair. Erin is holding her by the arm, physically holding her back from charging down off the stage.

“And,” the girl says, crossing her arms smugly, “it’s obvious that things aren’t working out between you.”

“My marriage is _none_ of your goddamn business,” Holtz spits. “Screw you. If you have rude things to say about my wife, you’re going to have to answer to me. You think I didn’t see all the comments I got on social media about how _angry_ you all were about us getting married? About losing your _chance_ with me? If you think any other woman in the _world_ stood a _fucking chance_ against—”

Erin has wrestled the microphone out of Holtz’s hands and flipped the switch to mute it. Holtz is still shouting as Erin pulls her off the stage.

“That’s all the time we have today,” Abby is saying into her own mic. “Thanks for coming.”

Holtz’s chest is heaving backstage. “Can you believe the _audacity_ —”

“She’s not. Worth. Your energy.” Erin has her hands on Holtz’s shoulders, trying to steady her. “She’s not worth getting all riled up over.”

“But she _insulted you_ ,” Holtz says. “She insulted our _marriage_.”

Patty and Abby have joined them.

“What the hell was that?” Abby says. “Holtzmann, you can’t just say whatever you want out there.”

“But she was completely out of line! I could’ve said something _much_ worse, believe me. I had some choice instructions about where she could shove that microphone.”

“You do realize that a quarter of that audience was filming, right?” Abby shakes her head. “That footage is already all over the internet. Guaranteed. We’ve got a public image to uphold, okay?”

“I don’t give a fuck about my public image,” Holtz says angrily. “I’m not going to let some random nobody come and insult me and my wife and expect to get away with it just because there’s an audience.”

“And I love that about you,” Erin says gently, “and I would’ve punched her, too, but Abby is right. We could afford to be a lot more irresponsible when we weren’t literally depending on our fans for our livelihood.” She looks around at the others. “If our reputation plummets, the future of our company goes down the toilet with it.”

Holtz kicks at the ground, clearly still upset but understanding. “Fine.”

“No more smack-downs during panels,” Patty says. “Twitter…is not off-limits.”

Abby gives her a look.

“DMs only,” Patty clarifies. “Nothing public.”

Abby shakes her head. “No Twitter. Actually, why don’t you do us all a favour and stay off social media altogether? We don’t need you blowing this for us just because you’re a loose cannon.”

Holtz crosses her arms. “You used to not give a shit what people thought about us, Abby. When did you get such a stick up your butt? Jesus.”

“When I started managing a struggling business with no funding,” Abby snaps. “Sorry for trying to give us as much of a reliable income as I can despite the fact that you seem hell-bent on bringing us all down with you. Not all of us have trust funds to fall back on, Holtzmann.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“So, not only do we need a lawyer on retainer, but probably a PR consultant too,” Erin jokes to lighten the mood.

Nobody laughs.

“Why are you not angry?”

Erin fiddles with her hands and stares at the pavement. “Because. Like you said—she was some random nobody. I don’t care what random people think of me anymore. Remember? All those things she called me—uptight and a loser and whatever—you’re the one who taught me not to care. Or taught me that I’m not any of those things. Whatever. Both.”

Holtz clicks her tongue and sighs, one hand holding the gas nozzle steady in the Ectobus’s tank.

“Fine. I guess.” She runs her free hand through her hair. “It just really got to me. I don’t know.”

“Do you _want_ me to be mad?”

Holtz looks at her. “She said our marriage was falling apart, Er. She said that I could do better than you. That doesn’t bother you?”

“She doesn’t know us, Holtz,” Erin says gently. “She doesn’t know anything about us or our relationship. _I_ know what she said is all bullshit.”

“Are you saying I don’t?”

“I didn’t say that,” Erin says tiredly. “I just meant that—”

“Yeah.”

Silence. The gas pump clicks and Holtz removes the nozzle and stows it back in its spot. Erin watches her screw the cap back into place.

“Do you really get a lot of comments online about marrying me?”

Holtz finishes and shoves her hands into her pockets. “Honest answer?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Every day. People are very opinionated. Have been since we broke the news.”

Erin remembers the day that they posted their marriage announcement. They kept it casual, unspecific. It was a few weeks after they got home from their trip last summer. It was only on this tour, one of the first stops, that they answered some questions about the wedding and told people that they got married in Vegas. Clearly that news has spread in the past week.

“What do they say?”

They walk together towards the convenience store.

“All sorts of stuff. A lot of people were very disappointed. A lot of them were confused. A lot of them thought it was a joke. It’s not like we really made it public information that we were dating.”

Holtz holds the door open and Erin follows her in.

“Some people were happy for us though, right?” she asks meekly.

Holtz grabs a bag of Bugles off the shelf. “Of course. I showed you a lot of the good messages.”

Erin chews on her lip and then grabs a pack of gum, hoping to quell the anxious habit. Holtz gets a packet of Starburst and an energy drink from the back coolers, and takes the gum from Erin’s hand and deposits the snacks on the till.

They’re quiet as Holtz pays, then gathers her purchases into her arms again. She hands Erin the gum.

“Thanks,” Erin mumbles as she slips the pack in her pocket.

They walk back to the Ectobus in silence. Holtz steps aside to let Erin board first.

She goes right for the booth, sitting beside Patty, who has a textbook spread out on the table, her head bent as she marks the pages up with a highlighter. Across the table, Abby is sitting with bulky Bluetooth headphones clamped over her ears, brow furrowed as she plays on a handheld gaming device. Erin won’t pretend that she knows which make or model it is. Her experience playing video games taps out at Tetris.

She looks over her shoulder at the sound of Holtz cracking the top of her energy drink, and watches as she takes a long sip and sets the can in the cupholder adjacent to her seat. Seconds later, she steers the RV out of the gas station and onto the road again.

Erin turns back to face Abby. Faint music trickles from her headphones. Patty’s highlighter squeaks on the page. Something rattles near the back of the cabin. Holtz has the radio playing softly.

Erin turns her pack of gum in her hands. Once. Twice. Three times. Removes the cellophane. Crumples it into a ball in her fist. Sets it on the table. Watches it unfurl from the ball. Flips open the pack. Removes a stick. Returns it. Removes it. Returns it. Closes the pack. Sets it aside. Wrings her hands.

“Abby?”

Abby doesn’t hear her.

Erin waves her hand. Abby looks up and pushes her headphones from one ear, the music becoming louder as she does so.

“What?”

“Never mind. You’re busy.”

Abby’s eyes drop to Erin’s hands. She stares at them for a few moments, then tugs her headphones all the way off so they’re hanging around her neck. She sets her game down.

“What?” she repeats.

“Nothing.” Erin shakes her head. She bites her lip, then stops. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But…I’m sorry. You know she was just joking with that comment…”

Abby shrugs one shoulder. “So what? She’s right. I _do_ have to be a hard-ass now. Someone has to, now that—”

Erin’s forehead wrinkles when Abby doesn’t finish her sentence. “Now that what?”

Patty sighs beside her, startling Erin.

“ _You_ used to be the one who kept Holtzy’s ass in line,” she says. “And now, well…”

Erin freezes. “I’m her wife, not her mother,” she says stiffly. “It’s not my job to control her behavior. She’s a grown woman.”

“That’s the whole point, though,” Abby says. “You _used_ to be the mom-friend. For _all_ of us. I mean, god, do you even _remember_ what it was like in the beginning? You were like the no-fun police.”

Erin starts to protest, but Patty nods.

“Girl, don’t start. You know it’s true.”

Erin crosses her arms.

“But then you went off on your little soul-searching loosening-up fest, and you came back dating Holtzmann, and everything changed. And we were _happy_ for you, we really were, but we lost our mom-friend.” Abby grimaces. “And now _I_ have to do it. God. I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“But you’re such a good manager,” Erin says.

Abby huffs. “Yeah. _She_ sure seems to think so.”

Erin looks over her shoulder, then back. “I think she just misses the old you.”

“I’m still _me_. Jesus. Just because I have to tell her to stop acting like a jackass in public before she runs us out of business for good, suddenly _I’m_ the jackass. Like, shit, I’m just doing the best I can, alright?”

Erin exchanges a glance with Patty.

“You know we think you’re doing a great job, right?” Erin says softly. “It’s not easy managing a business. You’re doing amazing.”

Abby scoffs. “Yeah. I’m doing _great_. We’re going to be broke by the end of the year. The _calendar_ year, not even the fiscal year. We’re screwed. You know the numbers, Erin. All I’m doing at this point is steering this ship as it takes on water.”

Erin and Patty exchange another glance.

“There’s nothing we can do about it on the road,” Erin says with a defeated sigh. “All we can do is keep on going, hope we break even on the tour, and deal with the rest when we get home.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Abby says, sounding just as defeated. She picks up her game again and pulls her headphones up over her ears, signaling the end of the conversation.

Patty picks up her highlighter again, shaking her head. “You gotta talk to her, man.”

“I just _tried_.”

“Not _her._ ”

Erin bites her lip. “I’m her wife, not her mother,” she repeats.

Patty rolls her eyes. “Yeah. And as her _wife_ , she actually listens to you. Tell her she’s gotta stop running her mouth before she gets herself in trouble.” She nods her chin in Abby’s direction. “And I don’t mean with the fans.”

Erin continues to chew on her lip for another few minutes, then releases it and reaches for the pack of gum. She unwraps a stick and hastily shoves it in her mouth.

She leans back against her seat and exhales spearmint, closing her eyes and losing herself as she chews.

Abby leans on her suitcase handle in the lobby of their hotel. “What time do we have to leave tomorrow morning?”

“Not until 7:00,” Erin says. “I purposefully scheduled a late start so we can stay up late tonight partying.”

“7:00 isn’t late,” Patty grumbles.

“I think I’m actually gonna—” Abby hooks her thumb behind her— “call it a night.”

“Same,” Holtz sighs.

Erin falters. “What? No! Guys, I specifically booked this so we could have fun tonight! This is _Las Vegas!_ You can’t go to bed!”

“Well. I’m not in the mood to drink, and I can’t afford to gamble away any of my money, so yeah, I’m going to bed.” Abby turns. “See you tomorrow morning.”

The rest of them watch her walk away.

“Damn,” Patty says.

“What’s _her_ problem?” Holtz says haughtily.

Patty gives Erin a pointed look over Holtz’s head. “Well, _I_ need a drink, so I’m going to ditch this bag upstairs and anyone who wants to join me can meet me back here in 20 minutes.”

“Come on, Holtz, let’s take our suitcase to our room,” Erin says. “Then you can decide if you want to come back out with us.”

Holtz sighs again but follows.

The hotel room door has barely shut behind them when Erin turns on Holtz, who’s already sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You need to apologize to Abby.”

Holtz’s eyebrows go to the ceiling. “Excuse me? For _what?_ ”

“For telling her to fuck off just because she’s trying to keep our business afloat. She’s doing her best, okay? Yeah, she probably didn’t need to lay into you that much, but—”

“Erin, come _on!_ If anyone has to apologize, it’s her! Did you catch that snide remark about the trust fund?”

“Look. She’s struggling right now, alright? She’s taken a big financial hit in the past year. Between the drop in salary since we lost our funding and the aftermath of the accident, she’s not in the best shape.”

In January, a bust gone awry left Abby needing emergency surgery. She was luckily fine when all was said and done, with no lasting complications other than the thousands of dollars in medical bills she was shackled with following her departure from the hospital. When they were employed by the mayor, they all had insurance. Now—not so much.

“I get that,” Holtz says, “but she still has no right to comment on my money or my family’s money.”

“Holtz, she’s _scared_. You know Abby. She’s notorious at hiding her emotions in favour of her tough-girl image. She’s in bad financial shape right now and she’s terrified of what’s going to happen when we run out of money—and she wants to prolong that for as long as possible. So when you go around yelling at fans and doing stuff that could jeopardize our image—and in turn our _livelihood—_ of _course_ she’s going to freak out.”

Holtz crosses her arms.

“And yeah,” Erin says. “Maybe she was out of line to comment on your family’s money. But she has a point—you have money in the bank. Not just your inheritance—” she says quickly before Holtz can protest— “but the money you’ve earned on your own, from your art. You have a safety net. You can’t pretend that you don’t. So of course Abby’s a little resentful—not because you have it, but because she doesn’t. The two of us will be okay if the Ghostbusters go under in the next few months. She won’t.”

“I didn’t really think of it like that,” Holtz mumbles.

“I know. But money stuff aside, you also have to remember that Abby’s our manager now. She’s your friend, and your teammate, but she’s also your manager. That means you need to listen to her when she tells you that you need to be more careful of what you say in the public eye. You might not care about _your_ public image, but you need to care about _our_ public image. What you do affects the rest of the team.”

“I didn’t listen to the mayor when _he_ was in charge…”

“Yeah. But I think you have a little more respect for Abby than you did for the mayor.”

The corner of Holtz’s mouth ticks up. “That’s accurate.”

“You really upset Abby today. She’s doing the best she can and she feels like you don’t care. Just…keep it in mind, okay?”

Holtz nods slowly. “I’ll go apologize to her. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just…wasn’t really thinking about the team, honestly. I let myself get fired up and didn’t think about the consequences. I’ll do better. I’m sorry.”

Erin smiles faintly. “And I’m sorry that that random nobody had to show up and put a damper on everything.” She comes and sits beside Holtz on the bed. “And, um, between you and me—I know yelling at a fan during a panel was really bad from a PR perspective, but I do appreciate you standing up for me and our marriage. Believe me, I wanted to go off as well.”

Holtz bumps her shoulder. “I would’ve paid good money to watch you deck her. Remember when we didn’t have to worry about our image and you could go around punching bloggers who harassed you?”

Erin snorts. “If you’ll remember, that _is_ what tanked my reputation.”

“Oh, honey, your reputation was tanked long before that.” Holtz leans to kiss her on the cheek. “Pretty much the second you met me.”

Erin playfully pushes her from the bed. “Go. Make things right and convince Abby to come out with us.”

Holtz leaps up. “Consider it done, cinnamon bun.” She spins on her heel over by the door and leans against the wall. “By the waaayyy…I hear Vegas is a great place to get married. Whaddya say? You wanna get hitched?”

Erin tsks. “Sorry, I’m already married.”

“Dammit, really?”

Erin hums, holding up her left hand and pointing at her ring. “Yeah, looks like it?”

“Just my luck.” Holtz shakes her head. “Well, your wife is one lucky woman.”

Erin fights back a smile. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Holtz winks and slips from the room.

_I'm not scared of what you're gonna tell me_

_no, I'm not scared of the beast in the belly_

_fill my cup with endless ambition_

_and paint this town with my very own vision_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if anyone's even reading this but if you are, thank you. love you guys xo


	3. zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating a fic in the polaroid series a mere week after its last update? It's...less likely than you think pls don't get to used to this so you're inevitably let down next time lol

[zero](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx5670LWOWI)

_I remember walking in the cold of November_

_hoping that I make it to the end of December_

_27 years and the end of my mind_

_but holding to the thought of another time_

Holtz groans and props herself up in the hotel room bed, rubbing at her eyes.

“Good morning,” Erin says dryly from the armchair in the corner.

Holtz stares at her for a moment, then licks her lips. “You know that movie trope, with one person sitting and casually sharpening a knife while they talk? You look like that right now.”

“I’m not sharpening a knife.”

“No, I know.” Holtz waves her hand through the air. “I just meant. You know. The general vibe.”

Erin stares at her, long and icy.

Holtz clears her throat. “Did I or did I not lose a small fortune last night?”

“You did.”

The words land like darts.

Erin stands. “I’m going to shower. We have to be downstairs in half an hour.”

“Yep,” Holtz says, and flops back down against the pillows.

When she emerges from the bathroom, hair hanging damp, Holtz is up and dressed, standing over at the window and looking out at the Strip.

“In my defense,” she says without turning, “I was trying to win some money for us. For the Ghostbusters. Like last summer.”

“Last summer was a fluke.” Erin throws her pajamas and toiletry bag into the suitcase. “It’s basic probability, Holtzmann.”

“Oof. Full name. Surprised you haven’t Jillianed me yet.”

Erin looks sharply over her shoulder. Holtz is facing her now.

“You’re unbelievable. You’re so _impulsive._ You can’t just recklessly blow through all your money whenever you feel like it! You lost _thousands_ , Holtz. And for what?”

“Drop in the bucket,” Holtz mumbles.

“I. Don’t. Care. I don’t care if it was 0.1% of your wealth or 100% of your wealth. The point is that you were being _stupid_ and throwing around money like it was _nothing_ , like we aren’t facing unemployment in the near future, like we hadn’t just _talked_ about how big of a deal money is right now, like you hadn’t _just_ made amends with Abby.”

“Abby won a bit last night,” Holtz says.

“Yeah,” Erin scoffs, “she turned $5 into $50. And she was feeling pretty great about calling it a night there before your little spectacle unfolded. Come on, Holtz. Use your brain. It’s like you aren’t thinking of anybody but yourself.”

“I was,” Holtz protests. “I was trying to win money to help the business. I told you.”

“Yeah,” Erin snaps. “You said that last night, too. Here’s a helpful hint, though: when your wife is telling you to call it quits because you’re drunk and your judgment is impeded and you’re being a fucking idiot and gambling away all your savings— _listen_ to her. Or you’re going to lose a lot more than 20 grand.”

With that, she storms from the hotel room, slamming the door behind her.

Patty is down in the lobby.

“Hey,” Erin says gruffly, trying to hide the fact that she briefly cried in the elevator.

Patty plays dumb. “Morning. Abby’s checking out. We should be ready to head out soon.”

Erin nods, looking over at the flashing lights of the casino and biting on her lip, hard.

When Holtz shows up five minutes later, dragging their suitcase behind her, she doesn’t meet Erin’s eyes.

The four of them are silent as they make their way to the Ectobus. Outside the vehicle, Holtz fumbles with the keys and drops them to the pavement.

“Are you still drunk?” Erin asks sharply.

Holtz stoops to pick up the keys, and when she straightens up, her face is dark.

“Give me the keys,” Erin commands.

“I don’t think you should—”

“Keys.” Erin reaches out and snatches them from Holtz’s hand before she can say another word.

She hasn’t driven the Ectobus yet—nobody but Holtz has—and she tries not to stress out too much about it as she carefully maneuvers the massive vehicle.

“Just…no sudden turns,” Holtz says quietly behind Erin.

“Go sit down,” Erin barks.

Holtz hovers there for a moment, then slinks back to the booth.

There’s a hollow thunk of a head dropping to the table.

“Why can’t I stop fucking up?” comes the small voice.

Patty sighs, but doesn’t answer her.

After a few hours of driving, Erin can feel her anger dissipating, being left on the road behind her. It’s partly because she knows Holtz was telling the truth when she said she was doing it with good intentions, and partly because she can tell how upset she is that she screwed up. She’s been wallowing in the back since they left.

There’s also the small fact that they’re in California now, and that alone is enough of a reason to give Holtz a break.

Erin makes an unplanned pit stop in Barstow at around 9:30. The others don’t question it, just disembark and stretch. Abby and Patty are out first. Holtz doesn’t move from the booth.

Erin walks back there slowly and stands for a few seconds before she drops the keys on the table.

Holtz jumps and looks up. Her eyes are watery.

Erin bites her lip and slides in the booth across from her.

“I’m so sorry, Erin,” Holtz says, voice raw.

“It’s okay,” Erin says quietly.

“No it’s not. You were right—I’m an idiot. I’m a fucking idiot.” Holtz hangs her head, her eyes filling with tears.

“I didn’t say you were an idiot,” Erin says. “I said you were acting like an idiot.”

“Same thing,” Holtz says. “It doesn’t matter. It’s true. I was being stupid and impulsive and now that money is gone forever all because I’m an idiot.”

Erin sighs. “I don’t care about that money.”

Holtz sniffles and lifts her head.

“I care that you weren’t listening to me,” Erin says. “I care that you were being an ass to your best friend and throwing money around like it meant nothing to you when you _knew_ that she’s sensitive about money issues right now. I care that you ruined a fun night by showing off. I care that you didn’t apologize until now.” She pauses. “I care that we got _married_ in Vegas, less than a year ago, and now you’ve gone and tarnished that memory. I’m never going to be able to think of Vegas without thinking of this, now.”

“I’m sorry,” Holtz repeats, broken-sounding. “I care about those things too. Especially the last one.”

Erin appraises her. “Have you sobered up?”

Holtz nods solemnly.

Erin juts her chin at the keys on the table.

Holtz reaches to cover them with her hand, then bites her own lip.

“Five things,” she says.

“We have to get back on the road,” Erin says.

“Five things,” Holtz repeats. “Five things that you wish I’d done differently these past few days.”

Erin stares at her for a moment, then nods.

“Okay. Number one: not gotten that drunk last night.”

Holtz nods in acknowledgment.

“Number two: gambled responsibly and not lost $20,000.”

“Yeah.” Holtz drops her head again.

Erin pauses for a moment. “Listened to me. Both last night, when you were throwing money around, but also earlier in the day. Listened to what I was telling you about Abby.”

Holtz nods.

“Not lashed out at Abby after the panel and created more tension between everyone.” Erin chews on her lip and wishes she had her pack of gum. “And last—” She closes her eyes briefly— “apologized sooner. As soon as you woke up. Not just sat there treating it like a joke.”

“Understood,” Holtz says. “I hear you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Any of it.”

“I hope so,” Erin says.

Holtz tilts her head slightly. “My turn?”

“That’s how it works,” Erin says.

Holtz pauses for a moment. “Okay. I wish you hadn’t stormed out of the hotel room this morning before we could actually talk.”

Erin swallows. “Yeah. That was pretty childish of me.”

“I wish you hadn’t yelled at me in front of our friends. That didn’t feel good.”

Erin is quiet for a moment. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I wish you didn’t give me conflicting messages about what I said during the panel.”

Erin frowns. “What do you mean?”

“In one breath you were telling me how stupid it was, and in the next you were telling me how much you appreciated it and would’ve done the same thing. You need to be clearer with me. If it was as bad as everyone made it out to be, I need to know so I won’t do it again. But if you’re going to reward me for it later…”

“You’re right,” Erin says quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I guess I had conflicting feelings about it.”

Holtz sighs.

“What else?” Erin prompts.

Holtz runs her tongue along her teeth. “I wish you hadn’t talked about me behind my back. To Abby and Patty. Like I’m a child.”

Erin falters. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you could hear us.”

Holtz shakes her head. “I couldn’t. But I could hear you talking in hushed voices back there. Doesn’t take a PhD to piece together what that means.”

Erin swallows. “Sorry.”

“I’m not a child,” Holtz says. “You can tell me stuff to my face.”

“I did,” Erin says. “That conversation was more about talking Abby down. I passed along everything you needed to know.”

Holtz hesitates. “Still. Please don’t talk about me behind my back. At least not when I’m sitting within earshot.”

Erin nods numbly. They sit there silently.

“What’s number five?” Erin murmurs.

“I don’t have another one,” Holtz says. “Free pass because I’m the one who fucked up. You have more to complain about.”

“We both could’ve handled it better,” Erin says, gesturing between them. “Clearly.”

Silence.

“Are we okay?” Holtz asks in a small voice.

“I’m okay,” Erin says immediately. “Are you okay?”

Holtz nods. “I’m okay.”

“Okay.” Erin manages a tiny smile. “I doubt you’ve even cracked the top thousand of most money blown in Vegas in a single night.”

Holtz returns the smile. “Not even close.” Her fingers close around the keys on the table and she drags them across to her side again, safe in her grip.

Erin is sitting in the passenger’s seat, keeping an eye on Holtz’s body language the further into California they get.

It’s no coincidence that Erin chose San Diego, a good 500 miles away from Silicon Valley, of all the cities in California to visit.

Holtz seems to be in good spirits, though—or at least decidedly happier than she was all morning.

“Mom’s home,” she says conversationally.

Erin looks at her with interest. “Really? That’s great news, Holtz.”

Holtz bobs her head. “Jaclyn got there this morning.”

“Good. And you—”

“Still no, Er.”

“Okay. I won’t ask again.”

Holtz glances sideways with a half smile. “Yeah you will.”

Erin smiles guiltily. “Yeah, I will.” She watches cars pass them in the other lane. “What about Jacob?”

“What about him?”

“What day is he getting there?”

“Saturday, I think. Day before us.”

Erin nods, still keeping her eyes fixed out the windshield. “Are you nervous about seeing him?”

“Define ‘nervous.’”

Now Erin looks at her. “Holtz.”

Holtz sighs. “I dunno, Erin. I don’t know. Yeah, I guess I’m nervous. I’ve never met his kids, and it’s bound to be awkward after last summer.”

Erin swallows. “Yeah.” She fidgets with her hands. “Before last summer, you hadn’t seen him since his wedding, right?”

“Affirmative.”

Holtz puts her turn signal on to pass the truck in front of them. Her lips are twisted in a way that indicates she has more to say. Erin waits to see if she’ll say more.

“It was 2011,” Holtz says after she’s gotten around the truck and returned to her lane. “January.”

“The wedding?” Erin clarifies.

“Yeah. I don’t know why he chose January to get married. I guess it doesn’t matter much when you live in California, but still. Stupid time of year for a wedding.” She’s quiet for a long pause. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

“Why?”

Holtz shakes her head. “It was a really bad time in my life. That winter leading up to it was one of the darkest ones I’ve ever had. I’d fucked my life up so tremendously. One bad decision after another.” She drums her thumbs on the steering wheel. “2010, that was the year that I—”

Erin frowns.

Holtz sits there for a second before dropping her head slightly. “That was the year of the lawsuit,” she says curtly.

Erin’s hands are tensed up. She tries to relax them but fails.

The lawsuit. The lawsuit where Holtz sued the family of her surrogacy contract for visitation rights.

“Oh,” she says.

Holtz exhales. “Emily was three. I was…27 when Jacob got married, but when I first started the legal battle back in the summer, I was still 26. 26 and I still thought that—” She shakes her head and licks her lips. “Well. I told Jacob at the wedding. I thought he’d understand. I don’t know. Instead, he told me to go home.” She glances at Erin. “So I did.”

“You left in the middle of the wedding?”

“It was the night before,” Holtz says, voice thick. “Missed the whole thing. Got on the first flight back to Boston. And that was that. Never saw him again. Until last summer. And you know how well _that_ went.”

Erin swallows.

“So yeah.” Holtz glances at her again. “You could say I’m nervous.”

Erin doesn’t push any more after that.

They unload off the Ectobus in San Diego, stretching in the Californian sun like cats.

“Is it weird being here?” Patty asks.

Holtz glances fleetingly at her. “Nope.”

“You thinking about her?”

Holtz crosses her arms. “If you’re talking about the child that I bore for a surrogacy contract 12 years ago, then the answer is no.”

One thing that Holtz’s therapist has gotten her to do in the past year is to stop referring to Emily as her daughter. She says it’s important to recognize her relationship to Emily for what it is, and to shift her mindset about the nature of their arrangement so she can start moving on in a healthy way.

Erin doesn’t know if it’s working, but she thinks it’s a good idea.

Patty holds her hands up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Holtz says. She takes in the way that they’re all watching her. “Jesus. Really, guys. I’m fine.”

Patty nods like she’s not convinced. She follows Abby into the convention center.

Holtz throws her hands up in frustration once they’re out of earshot. “God. Sometimes I really regret telling them.”

Erin eyes her with curiosity. “Really?”

Holtz swings her laptop bag with their presentation materials over her shoulder and huffs. “No. I don’t regret anything. I just wish they were cooler about it.”

“I think they just care about you.”

Holtz scoffs. “We’re on the complete opposite side of the state, in a city that I have no memories associated with whatsoever, and most importantly: I’ve been in therapy for a year and I’m _fine_. This—” she waves her hand in the air— “is not triggering me. Having you all _hover_ over me like I’m going to run away? Yeah. _That_ makes me feel not so great.”

“I’m sorry,” Erin says. “I didn’t mean any harm by it, and I doubt Patty did either.”

Holtz kicks a pebble across the parking lot. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Erin shuts up and follows her.

“I’d like to welcome to the stage: Dr. Abby Yates, Dr. Erin Gilbert, Dr. Jillian Holtzmann, and Patty Tolan.”

On their cue, the four of them walk out from the curtain, microphones in hand. The auditorium erupts in applause. There’s a cluster of high-pitched screaming from the front row, where some young women have signs. Somebody whistles at the back.

They wave to the crowd as they take their places in front of the projector screen.

This is their 8th tour stop, and they’ve definitely found their footing. Their first few stops were a little rough as they tried to figure things out.

The tour is a weird amalgamation: part lecture circuit, part tour to interact with fans. They usually start with a prepared lecture about their research, followed by the Q&A panel, then there’s an opportunity for autographs and photos.

Their audiences have been a fairly even mix of fans and members of the scientific community. The questions they get tend to reflect this divide: some people are clearly there to learn more about their research; others are only sitting through the science so they can ask questions about their personal lives.

It’s something entirely new—uncharted territory both for them and perhaps for the world. They’re scientists with groupies.

“Hey everyone—how are you doing today?” Abby pauses for the cheers, then smiles. “My name is Dr. Yates, and I’m going to get us started today.”

The first person given a microphone during the Q&A is a middle-aged woman with thick glasses.

“Hi. I have a question related to something you said during your panel in Salt Lake City yesterday?”

All four of them tense up.

“You mentioned that you got stopped at the Canadian border because they thought you were transporting a ghost in your vehicle—”

They all relax.

“—and I was just wondering what you think the morality is of stealing spirits from their resting place in order to trap and transport them to another state to study them in your lab.”

They all sit there silently, glancing at each other, none of them wanting to jump in and answer that question.

“Um, I can answer that,” Erin says cautiously. “That ethics question is kind of one we have to deal with every day—our job revolves around capturing the ghosts of those who should have departed this plane but are still here for whatever reason. We contain them, study them, and then send them back to the spectral plane where they belong.” She looks down the table at the others. “My teammates and I have often wrestled with the ethical implications of containing spirits—but you have to know that we exclusively capture malevolent beings who are disturbing the peace.”

“And they’re not always humanoids,” Abby interjects. “We’re actually less likely to capture humanoids.”

Erin nods. “But your question was about the morality of removing them from their resting place, and I think that’s a fair question. We actually intend to return any entities that we take with us, after we have studied them. By that I mean that we would physically transport the entity back to the location we found it, and then we would send it back to the spectral plane from there.”

“The reason for that is that we want to be respectful, first of all,” Abby says, “but we also have theories about the mirroring of the planes. In layman’s terms, if we took a Californian ghost to New York and sent it back to the spectral plane there, we theorize that it’ll be sent to the New York equivalent of that plane.”

“Basically, we know that spectral entities are tethered to the physical locations that were meaningful in their living state, and we think it may be the same on the spectral plane,” Erin says. “That’s also part of the reason why we want to study out-of-state ghosts—we want to see if it’s even possible to remove them from the places they’re tethered to.”

“All that to say that yes, we will be returning any ghosties we pick up,” Holtz says.

“We’re not in the business of messing with history, and we take the ethics of our job seriously,” Patty says. “A lot of people think our research isn’t ethical or humane.”

“Yeah, we got a few human rights groups on our tail,” Holtz grumbles.

“And we hear and respect their concerns,” Patty says quickly. “They raise valid points about what rights ghosts should have. Are we doing the humane thing by sending them back to their plane? Are we exploiting them for research purposes when we contain them? Should humanoids be given the same rights as when they were alive, and need to consent to being studied? Should they be held to the same standards, and locked up when they’re being bad?”

“Believe me, we’ve thought of all the same questions and more,” Erin says. “But our goal with our research is always to better understand the spectral plane and the afterlife. The more we understand, the more we can help the souls who seem to be trapped here.”

The woman in the audience nods, looking a little dissatisfied with their answer. “Okay. Thanks.”

The mic is given to a younger woman.

“I also have a question about yesterday’s panel.”

“Maybe we should stick to new questions,” Abby says warily.

“Okay, then I have a question for Dr. Holtzmann.”

“Yes?” Holtz asks stiffly.

“I think myself and a lot of others were surprised to hear that you and Dr. Gilbert had been dating for a year before you got unexpectedly married last summer.”

“Do you have a question?” Holtz says, an edge to her voice.

“Why did you get married in Vegas?”

Holtz exhales, clearly trying to keep herself calm. “Why do people keep asking that? Erin already answered this yesterday. We got married for the same reason everyone gets married. We love each other and want to spend our lives together. This isn’t a revolutionary concept. I don’t know why people keep asking when it’s just insulting and—”

Erin elbows her gently. Holtz breaks off.

“No, I get that,” the girl says, “but what made you decide to get married in Vegas? Did you plan it? When did you get engaged?”

“That morning,” Holtz says.

Erin clears her throat and shoots her a warning look.

“What?” Holtz says. “I’m not going to lie. Yeah, it was an impromptu thing. We didn’t plan it. So what? That’s what Vegas is for. Lots of people get married on the fly there—and no, we weren’t drunk, like so many people are concerned about, and we weren’t stoned—” Now she clears her throat— “uh, not that we get stoned. I don’t get stoned. Nope. Because that would be illegal and—wait, this is California, so weed _is_ legal here—but no, no, we’re respectable role models and a lot of you are underage and while I’m not denying that I _do_ have an illustrious history with recreational—”

“Holtz,” Erin finally says, after not one but two sharp nudges and another throat clearing, all of which Holtz didn’t seem to notice.

“Yep, yeah, I heard myself that time. I’m going to stop talking.” Holtz sinks down in her seat.

On the other side of Erin, Abby is shaking her head. “Next question, please?”

“Honestly, we should just turn my mic off,” Holtz says backstage.

“Or you could learn to control the things that come out of your mouth,” Abby retorts. “I’m not asking a lot. Don’t verbally abuse fans. Don’t go on a tangent about drug use.”

“Come on, Abby, it’s not a big deal,” Patty says. “It’s not like she was promoting heroin. Everybody smokes weed. _You_ smoke weed. _Frequently_.”

“Yeah,” Abby says, “and I don’t go around telling a bunch of teenagers that. Can’t wait to hear about what the morality police have to say about this.” She sighs. “Just—maybe you should stop answering questions.”

“But…” Holtz looks at Erin and Patty for backup. “People ask me questions. Me specifically. What, I’m just not supposed to answer?”

“Yeah.” Abby raises an eyebrow. “I’m serious. If it’s something one of us could answer, deflect to us. If not, say you don’t feel comfortable answering. And don’t.”

“I have some concerns about this plan.”

“Tough shit,” Abby says. “Prove that you can handle answering questions without sticking your foot in your mouth, and I’ll let you do it again.”

Holtz crosses her arms but doesn’t answer.

Before the signing and photo op, Erin ducks out in search of a restroom.

She’s trying to find her way back in the labyrinth of hallways when she passes by a woman in her fifties who’s wearing a floral-patterned hijab and a pair of funky glasses.

“Dr. Gilbert?”

Erin stops. “Yes, hi?”

The woman smiles. “My name is Dr. Nabila Rashid—I’m a big fan of your work.”

Erin covers her mouth. “Oh my gosh—I know who you are! Wow, I—it’s such an honour to meet you! I’ve admired you for so long.”

Dr. Rashid waves her hand. “I feel the same.”

Erin looks around, sure she’s on some sort of prank show. There’s no way that Dr. Nabila Rashid, one of the most prolific particle physicists in the world, is standing in front of her and telling her that _she’s_ a big fan of Erin’s work. She’s so _cool_.

“What are you doing here?” Erin blurts.

Dr. Rashid gives her a strange look. “I came for your lecture, of course.”

Erin feels faint. “Really?”

“I was so hoping I would have a chance to speak to you,” Dr. Rashid says. “I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while—I actually tried phoning your lab, but I’m not sure that my message ever found you.”

“Kevin,” Erin says through gritted teeth. She coughs. “Sorry, no, I didn’t get any message. Our receptionist only reports about half the calls we get. I’m so sorry.”

“No matter,” Dr. Rashid says. “I wanted to speak to you to see if you might be interested in a research opportunity with my team.”

Erin’s ears are ringing. “Sorry, what?”

“We would count ourselves lucky to have a mind such as yours join us. With your expertise, we could take our research to new heights. I understand if you are committed to your work in New York, but I’d like to extend an offer to you anyway.”

“A…job offer?” Erin says numbly. “With you? At…at Stanford?”

Dr. Rashid nods warmly. “Please, take your time to consider.” She hands Erin a business card. “When you’re ready, we can talk more.”

Erin stares down at the card.

“I must be going,” Dr. Rashid says. “It was lovely to meet you, Dr. Gilbert. I hope to hear from you.”

Erin nods like a bobblehead. “Thank you. _Thank you_.”

Dr. Rashid smiles, then takes off in the opposite direction.

Erin can only blink. She fumbles her wallet out of her purse and tucks the business card into it, then continues on down the hallway, heart thumping.

By the time she finds her way back, they’ve already begun without her. When Abby eyes her and asks if she got lost, she says yes.

Holtz looks visibly out of it as she poses for photos with fans, none of whom seem to have any problem with her behavior as of late. The smile she gives the camera is forced, tense. Erin wonders if any of them would notice the difference, if they know enough about her wife’s body language to recognize when she’s upset, or if she’s just another celebrity to them.

Erin decides right then and there that she’s not going to tell Holtz about her conversation with Dr. Rashid. It would be just another thing to stress her out, and not something she needs right now. Or so Erin can convince herself.

Add it to the score of things she’s keeping from Holtz.

They load back onto the Ectobus, quiet. Holtz locks the laptop bag in one of the cupboards above the booth.

“Now what?” Abby asks as she flops down in the booth.

“We have to hit the road again,” Erin says. “We need to make it to Phoenix by tonight.”

Patty’s face falls. “That’s it? We’re already leaving California? But we haven’t done anything here.”

“We haven’t done anything in most cities we’ve visited,” Erin reminds her.

“We should go to the beach,” Patty says.

Abby perks up. “Yes. _Yes_. I want to go to the beach.”

“I didn’t schedule any beach time,” Erin protests.

This, too, was no coincidence. She and Holtz have a bad track record with beaches. Sure, the last time they were at one, Erin proposed, technically speaking…so in theory their bad beach streak was broken…

But she’d very much prefer it if that was the last time she ever went to the beach. She doesn’t want a repeat of the Vegas situation. A good memory squashed and replaced by a bitter one.

“I also vote beach,” Holtz says. “So what if we’re a couple hours late getting to Phoenix?”

“Fine,” Erin says.

Erin stretches her legs out in the sand and watches Holtz and Abby building a sandcastle together a hundred yards away, their feud temporarily suspended.

Patty is lying on a towel beside her, sunglasses and hat covering her face.

Erin can’t stop thinking about her conversation with Dr. Rashid. She can’t stop thinking about what it would mean to accept her offer. To turn her back on the Ghostbusters. To move to California. Not just California, but _Stanford_. Right in the thick of everything and everyone that Holtz wants to avoid.

Would Holtz go with her? Could she? _Should_ she?

“Patty?” Erin asks quietly, not wanting to wake her if she’s asleep.

Patty groans. “What?”

“Never mind.”

Patty paws her hat off her face so she can see Erin. “What?”

Erin looks down at her. “Can I tell you something?”

“Course.”

Erin licks her lips, which are starting to burn in the sun. “I, um…I got a job offer today.” The words sound so ridiculous coming out of her mouth.

Patty props herself up on her elbows. “Seriously?”

Erin nods. “This world-renowned physicist from Stanford caught me while I was on my way back from the restroom and told me how she was a big fan of my work, and she wanted to know if I would join her research team.”

“That’s great, Erin,” Patty says, but her voice is flat.

Erin hugs her knees to her chest, grains of sand falling from them as she moves them. “You can’t tell anyone. Abby would freak out, and Holtz…I just don’t want her to know yet.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t keep secrets from your wife,” Patty says pointedly.

Erin swallows. “She’s got a lot going on right now. It would just stress her out unnecessarily.”

“If you say so. So, what, you told this woman no?”

“I didn’t really say anything,” Erin admits. “She told me to think about it and call her.”

“Will you?”

“Think about it? Yeah. I will. I just…I don’t know. I don’t know if I could abandon the Ghostbusters like that, even if Holtz was on board.”

Patty lowers herself back down to her towel. “Might not be any Ghostbusters to abandon, if we keep going the way we’re going.”

Erin bites her lip and looks back out at Abby and Holtz. Holtz appears to be chasing Abby around their castle with a crab in hand.

A continuous buzzing sound shakes Erin from her thoughts. She pinpoints the source to her purse, and reaches for it to find her phone.

When she finds the glowing phone inside, she realizes that it’s not hers, but Holtz’s. It’s an unsaved number that’s calling.

A Michigan number.

She stares at the screen, stomach churning, and is trying to convince herself not to answer when the phone stops ringing.

Who the hell would be calling Holtz from Michigan?

She chews on her lip, still staring at the black screen of Holtz’s phone. A quick glance up tells her that her wife is still occupied with Abby. Her thumb hovers over the home button. She knows Holtz’s passcode.

“Girl, don’t do it,” Patty warns.

Erin shakes her head to clear it and hurriedly puts Holtz’s phone back in her purse before she can do something stupid. She’s not an insecure straight man in a movie. She knows better than to snoop in her spouse’s phone. That’s a major invasion of privacy.

She looks up to see Holtz doubled over with laughter, now splashing in the waves with Abby.

“Do you think—”

“Don’t,” Patty says.

“But—”

“ _Don’t_.”

Erin doesn’t say anything more.

When Holtz comes running back to them some time later, she shakes her head like a golden retriever, sending salt water from her damp hair showering over Erin.

“You missed a phone call,” Erin says.

Holtz bends, giving Erin a good look at the water droplets clinging to her bare abs, and snags her phone out of Erin’s bag. She turns the screen on and glances at it for the most fleeting of seconds before dropping it into the purse again.

“Telemarketer,” she says dismissively. “You wanna go swimming with me?”

“I’m not wearing swimwear,” Erin says.

Holtz stares at her expectantly.

“No,” Erin clarifies.

Holtz pouts. “Suit yourself.”

She turns and skips back off across the sand. Erin watches her go and thumbs a stray water droplet from her leg.

Maybe she’s not the only one with secrets.

_I'm looking for a way out_

_I find it hard to tell you how I want to run away_

_I understand it always makes you feel a certain way_

_I find a balance in the middle of the chaos_


	4. stuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have NO idea how or why this chapter went the way it did, if I'm being honest

[stuck](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfC5WtzRKiY)

_why did you go leaving me lonely?_

_didn't you know you were the home, you were the only?_

_where did you go?_

_come back to me_

Erin wakes up in Phoenix to someone knocking on the door of her hotel room.

She turns her head to frown at Holtz, but then her blood runs cold.

Holtz isn’t in the bed.

Holtz isn’t in the room.

The knocking continues.

She scrambles out of bed and runs to the door, throwing it open without bothering to look through the peephole.

“Good morning; room service,” the pimply kid on the other side says.

Erin blinks at him and looks down at the cart piled with at least five plates.

“I didn’t order room service,” Erin says, perhaps a little curter than necessary, but her wife is missing and she doesn’t have time for a hotel goof-up right now.

“Ms. Holtzmann?” the boy asks.

Erin looks at him sharply. “It’s…Dr. Holtzmann? And I’m not…that’s my wife.”

The kid shrugs one shoulder. “She placed an order this morning.”

Erin frowns, brow creasing deeply as she waves him past her. She follows him into the room and grabs her wallet to get tip money, picking up her phone at the same time and glancing to see if there’s a notification from Holtz.

There isn’t.

Once she’s tipped the guy and he’s safely out the door, she dials Holtz, half-expecting to hear her phone ringing from within the room.

Instead, the door flies open and her wife walks in.

“Holtz,” Erin says with relief, her phone still pressed to her ear.

Holtz holds up one finger and roots around in the pocket of her cargo shorts. She pulls out her phone, checks the screen, and looks up with a grin. She swipes her screen and holds it up to her ear before Erin can blink.

“Hello, my dearest, how can I help you?”

Her voice echoes uncomfortably in Erin’s ear.

“Funny,” Erin says, and hangs up the call. “Where were you?”

“Meditating,” Holtz says, strolling over to the room service cart and lifting cloches left and right to check out the food underneath. “Is it just me, or did they skimp on the waffles?”

“Um. Holtz. What’s with all the food?”

Holtz beams. “It’s breakfast. For you.”

Erin squints at her.

“I sent some to Abby and Patty’s room too,” Holtz says. “Can’t be mad at breakfast food. It’s the ultimate peace offering.”

“So…let me get this straight. You…ordered an overpriced extravagant meal…”

Holtz peels back the lid to a little container of jam. “Yep.”

“…when there’s a free breakfast downstairs…”

She sticks her pinky finger in the jam. “Uh huh.”

“…and sent it to Abby’s door.”

Holtz pauses, jam-covered finger in her mouth. “…Ah.”

“Yep,” Erin says.

Holtz slowly withdraws her finger from her mouth. “Okay. I can see how that may have been the _slightest_ bit insensitive at the moment.”

Erin pulls a plate of eggs towards herself. “Oh, and remind me whose credit card is on the reservation here, Holtz?”

Holtz puffs out her cheeks, lips pressed together. “Yours,” she says in a tiny voice. “Son of a fuck. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks for breakfast,” Erin calls after her as she hastily exits the room.

Holtz sorts everything out with Abby and Patty—turns out, Abby actually appreciated the gesture, surprising everyone—and soon they’re ready for their lecture of the day.

They’re in the hallway outside the conference room, the door cracked an inch so they can listen for their cue to enter, when Holtz’s phone buzzes. She pulls it out, brow furrowing.

“Who is it?” Erin asks, already on edge.

“Text from Jaclyn,” Holtz says. She reads it, then laughs, forced-sounding.

“What’s so funny?” Erin asks.

“No, that’s what she said,” Holtz says. She turns the phone screen towards Erin.

[10:58am] Jaclyn: _hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha_

[10:58am] Jaclyn: _classic_

“What’s that link?” Erin asks.

“I don’t know yet,” Holtz says, tapping on the URL that Jaclyn also sent. She turns the screen back towards herself. The page loads and the smile fades from her face.

“What? What is it?” Erin asks, heart rate quickening.

“Nothing,” Holtz says quickly, fumbling her phone towards her pocket.

Abby snags it out of her hand, scanning the still-on screen before looking up at Holtz, who is rubbing her neck guiltily.

“I am going to kill you,” Abby says resolutely.

Erin takes the phone from Abby.

_Sinning Stoner Steals Souls_

“Oh no,” Erin says quietly.

“I didn’t actually get a chance to read the article,” Holtz says, “but that headline’s a doozy. You gotta laugh about it though, right?”

Erin scans the article, Abby and Patty reading over her shoulder.

“Wow. They really covered all their bases,” Patty says. “We got the gay thing, the stoner thing, the Ghostbuster thing, the scientist thing, the drunk-and-gambling in Vegas thing…”

“Wait, what?” Holtz cranes her head to see over the top of the phone. “Are those _photos?_ Wow. I look wasted.”

“You were,” Erin says dryly. “Hold up— _illegitimate marriage?_ What about our marriage is illegitimate?”

“I don’t have a penis,” Holtz deadpans.

“Oookay,” Erin mutters.

“Y’know,” Holtz says contemplatively, “I’m not actually that offended by this. I often take comfort in the fact that I would’ve been burned at the stake a hundred years ago.”

“Uh…little longer ago than that, Holtz.”

Holtz looks down at herself exaggeratedly, then back up. “I know what I said.”

Patty snorts.

“Taxpayer money,” Abby reads. “Why do they keep mentioning the waste of taxpayer money? I _wish_ we were still funded by the taxpayers.”

Holtz nods her head towards the door. “We kinda still are. I mean, assuming our fans pay their taxes. I know I don’t.”

“ _Please_ never say that out loud again,” Abby says. “Or we’re gonna have a lot more than ‘society for Christian values dot com’ on our backs.”

“Um, speaking of our funding,” Patty says, “I think we missed our cue.”

They all scramble to put the phone away and push the door further open. Sure enough, the moderator is standing on the stage peering towards the door and repeating their name.

They file in and climb the stairs to the stage as the room applauds, and they leave all thoughts of the article behind for now.

In all their panic about their missed cue, Erin is the one who ended up with Holtz’s phone in her pocket. She realizes this when it starts vibrating in the middle of the panel.

She discretely pulls it half out of her pocket and glances at it, wishing she had a table to hide it below. Instead, they’re sitting on chairs out in the open.

She recognizes the number immediately. It’s the same Michigan number that called yesterday.

She shoves the phone back into her pocket before anyone notices that she was looking at it, although she has an excuse for checking—if someone was phoning about Holtz’s mom, she’d want to answer it, even during the panel.

Holtz is preoccupied, deflecting questions left and right per Abby’s instructions. The audience appears to be getting increasingly frustrated with her.

“What’s your favourite thing that you’ve ever invented?”

“Uhhhhhhhh…why don’t we see what my colleagues’ favourites are?” Holtz gestures at them to jump in.

“For me it’s the Proton Glove,” Abby says. “It was the first sidearm you ever built for me, and it was perfect. You knew that all I wanted to do was punch some ghosts in the face.”

Gentle laughter from the audience.

“I can’t pick mine,” Erin says. “Every new thing that Dr. Holtzmann invents is just as amazing as the last. Her creativity and ingenuity blow me away every single day.”

Holtz smiles.

“But what’s _your_ favourite, Dr. Holtzmann?” the boy at the microphone asks.

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” Holtz says.

The boy gives her a weird look, but steps down to make room for the next question.

“Dr. Holtzmann, where do you get your ideas?”

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that.”

“Dr. Holtzmann, what did you do your dissertation on?”

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that.”

“Dr. Holtzmann, is it true that you have a motorcycle?”

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that.”

“Last year you posted a picture of yourself soaking wet on Snapchat with the caption ‘Ghost did it.’ Can you tell us that story?”

Holtz starts to laugh. “Oh _man,_ that’s my favourite story ever. Okay so—I mean…uh…” She looks at Erin with wide eyes. “Maybe one of my teammates can tell that story?”

Erin startles up straighter. “Uh. Yes. Yeah, I can tell that story. Uhhhh…” She laughs nervously to herself, wracking her brain for the details. “Okay, so there was this ghost that you ran into in…Chelsea?”

“Queens,” Holtz says.

“Right, yes, I knew that. Okay, so there was this, um, ghost, and you…you were alone and didn’t have your gear, right? And it, um, pushed you into a…swimming pool or something?”

“Fountain,” Holtz says, barely audible, her leg bouncing and foot tapping on the stage.

“Right, right, a fountain.”

Silence. Erin crosses her legs and sits back.

The fan leans in closer to the microphone. “Is that…the whole story?”

“Yes,” Erin says, voice cracking into her own microphone. She clears her throat. “Yep. That’s it.”

She glances at Holtz—who looks like she’s in physical pain at not being able to tell the story herself—and mouths a quick _I’m sorry_.

“Are you going to answer _any_ questions, Dr. Holtzmann?” the next person asks.

“I…uh…don’t feel comf—”

“We’ve been feeling like all the questions we’re getting on this tour are for Holtzmann,” Abby interjects before Holtz can continue. “Which isn’t fair to her. The rest of us are here and happy to answer your questions while she gets a well-deserved break. Next question, please?”

The fan turns away, the microphone picking up something that sounds a lot like “that’s bullshit” as she goes.

“Next question?” Abby repeats.

Erin hands Holtz her phone back after they’re done.

“Thanks,” Holtz says. She doesn’t mention the missed call, but immediately starts typing a response to Jaclyn’s texts from earlier. “Where…did…you…find…this,” she says to herself as she types.

Jaclyn’s response comes instantaneously.

“ _Mom’s got a Google alert on your name_ ,” Holtz reads. She snorts. “Sounds about right.”

“Does that mean your mom read that article?” Erin says.

“Most certainly,” Holtz says. “Ten bucks says she’ll have it printed out and stuck to the fridge when we get there.”

Patty tilts her head. “To make fun of you?”

“Oh, Patty.” Holtz pats her on the arm. “You’ve never met my mother.”

She takes off down the hallway, leaving the three of them behind.

“That didn’t answer my question,” Patty mutters.

“Let’s talk damage control,” Abby says as they drive away from Phoenix.

“Shouldn’t we wait until Holtz can be a part of this conversation?” Erin asks, recalling her promise to Holtz to not talk about her behind her back.

“No,” Abby says flippantly. “Now, this clearly isn’t from a reputable site, so it’s unlikely that the article will be far-reaching.”

“Great, so we don’t have a problem,” Patty says, not looking up from the textbook spread on the table in front of her.

“Not at all true,” Abby says. “I said it’s _unlikely_. It’s still possible. If Holtz’s family could find it, the fans will find it, too. We need to figure out our strategy with this.”

“Can’t we just ignore it?” Erin runs her thumb along the edge of her packet of gum, which is nearly empty. “Like you said, it’s just some dumb blog. If anyone asks us about it, we can laugh it off or pretend we haven’t seen it.”

“Absolutely not. We need to be prepared to handle it. I say we nip it in the bud. Holtz needs to make a public statement about what she said in San Diego. She needs to clean up her image before this mess spirals.”

“We’re not holding a fucking press conference, Abby,” Holtz calls from up front, sounding irritated.

“Focus on driving,” Abby snaps. “This conversation doesn’t concern you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Holtz snaps back. “If you’re going to sit back there talking shit about my ‘image,’ then I get a say. Back me up, Erin.”

“I think we need to include her in this discussion,” Erin says meekly. “It is about her, after all.”

Patty slams her textbook shut, causing Erin to jump.

“Enough,” she says. “Y’all need to chill out. Abby, man, you gotta let it go. It’s one stupid article written by a bunch of wackos. Nothing Holtzy could say would stop them from writing ridiculous crap like that about her, and they’ll keep doing it either way. Who cares. Erin’s right—we gotta take the quiet road. No point drawing attention to the crazies. That’ll just give them a voice.”

“Fine,” Abby huffs, and if they weren’t trapped in a vehicle with nowhere to go, Erin is positive she would be storming off.

Patty lets her book fall open again. “Now, will y’all shut up and let me get back to studying?”

“Yes, Patty,” the two of them echo.

To give her some peace, Erin moves to sit up front with Holtz.

“Thanks for standing up for me,” Holtz says, an edge of sarcasm to her voice.

“Hey, the first thing I said was that we should wait until you could be a part of the conversation,” Erin says defensively.

“And then you let Abby steamroll and keep going anyway.” Holtz sighs. “Whatever. I just want to drive.”

“Fine,” Erin says, and slumps back in her seat in silence. There’s nowhere else for her to go, either.

“Sorry,” Holtz mumbles after a while. “I know you tried.”

Erin bites her lip.

“I guess I don’t think the whole thing is a big deal,” Holtz adds quietly. “I kinda thought it was cool.”

“The article?”

“Yeah. It was funny.”

“It _was_ funny,” Erin assures her. “Or at least, I thought it was.”

“It kinda made things feel normal.”

Erin looks at her. “How do you mean?”

Holtz drums her thumbs on the steering wheel. “I dunno. Mom collecting articles about me.”

“Ah.”

“Gives me hope that she’s still her old self.” Holtz licks her lips. “Is that crazy?”

“Of course not,” Erin says. “I think that makes a lot of sense. She’s still the mom you remember, right?”

Holtz nods. “Yeah.”

“Are you worried about that? About her not being herself when we get there?”

“Or just…different,” Holtz admits. “It’s been a couple years. I _know_ her health has declined. Just makes me wonder what else has changed.”

Erin thinks about that for a moment. “Things are bound to have changed,” she says. “That’s how it works, remember? Look at it this way: you just have to go into it knowing that things will be different. Things _have_ changed. Your mom’s health is worse.” She pauses. “What else has changed? What do you know about already?”

“Jade doesn’t live at home anymore,” Holtz says. “She graduated.”

“Yes, good,” Erin says encouragingly. “What else? This’ll help you prepare.”

Holtz hesitates. “Jacob and Kelsey had a baby.”

“Yes. What else?”

“The kids are older. Not that I’ve met any of them, so it doesn’t really make a difference to me.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t that enough?”

“It is,” Erin assures her. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything else that you knew for certain. Okay, so you know that all that has changed. Now you can be ready for those changes. You know they’re coming.”

Holtz bobs her head, looking unconvinced.

They’re about an hour from El Paso, their destination for the night, stopped for gas in Las Cruces.

“Truth or Consequences,” Holtz says suddenly.

Erin looks up. “What?”

Holtz taps Erin’s map, which she’s got spread out on the hood of the Ectobus. “Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Look at how close we are.”

“That’s a _place?”_

“It used to be called Hot Springs,” Patty says without looking up from her phone. “They changed it in 1950, named it after the game show. Ralph Edwards filmed the 10th anniversary broadcast from there. It was all a big promotional thing.”

“Did you just look that up right now?” Abby asks.

Patty glances up from her phone. “No? I read about it years ago.”

“We have to go,” Holtz says, slamming her hand down on the map. “We have to go to Truth and Consequences.”

Erin comes around to look at the map. “Holtz, that’s in the complete opposite direction as we’re going. That’s probably at least an hour drive, and then we’ll have to drive all the way back to El Paso, which means we’re looking at an extra two hours on top of the hour we already have left. That’s three hours of driving, and for what?”

“Thanks for doing that math for us, Erin,” Patty says under her breath.

Erin gives her a look.

“Pleeeeeaaaaase?” Holtz bats her eyes innocently. “I promise I won’t ask for anything else for the rest of this trip.”

“Fine,” Erin grumbles, “but we’d better get going quickly.”

“Say no more,” Holtz says, scooping the map off the hood with glee.

“Watch it—you’re crumpling it,” Erin says. “Just—give it to me.”

“Yes, mother,” Holtz says with a roll of her eyes.

Erin glares at her for a moment and snatches the map from her hands.

They make it to Truth or Consequences as the sun is setting.

“I can see why this place used to be called Hot Springs,” Abby says as they pass the third sign for a different hot springs and spa.

“We gotta go to one,” Holtz says. “We gotta.”

“It’s like a billion degrees out,” Erin whines. “The thought of going and sitting in hot water isn’t appealing.”

“Okay, you can stay in the van,” Holtz says. “Abby, Patty?”

“I’d be down,” Patty says.

“Actually, I would too,” Abby says.

Erin crosses her arms. “Okay. Have fun roasting.”

“Roasting happens in dry heat,” Holtz says. “What we’ll be doing is _boiling_.”

Erin shakes her head.

The spa charges Erin to enter, even though she has no intention of getting in the water. She just didn’t want to wait in the van and be left out.

Holtz groans and drifts her hand across the top of the water. “This is glorious.”

“It feels so good, Erin,” Abby says, eyes closed.

Patty hums in agreement.

Erin crosses her leg on the bench she’s sitting on. “That’s nice for you.”

“You’re missing out,” Holtz singsongs.

Sweat creeps down Erin’s back. “I’m really not. Thanks anyway.”

“I wonder if people who live in this town are more honest,” Abby contemplates.

“These hot springs would keep me honest,” Holtz mumbles, shifting in the water with her eyes closed.

Erin makes a face that none of them see.

“I was more getting at the name,” Abby says. “But sure, that too.”

Holtz’s eyes fly open and she splashes the water with her palm. “We gotta play Truth. Right now.”

Erin uncrosses her leg and sits up with attention. “Um, do we have to?”

“It’s the town of Truth or Consequences,” Holtz says grandly. “Of _course_ we do.”

“Oh, I got one,” Patty says. “Do I get to choose someone to ask?”

“Yep,” Abby and Holtz chorus.

“Uhhhh…lets go with Erin,” Patty says.

Erin curses internally. “Yes?”

“If you had to choose between having to be naked 24/7 or having your thoughts appear in thought bubbles over your head for everyone to read, what would you pick?”

“Oh come on,” Erin says. “This isn’t ‘Would You Rather.’”

“Question’s a question,” Holtz says, grinning. “What’s your answer? Remember: this is the game of Truth.”

Erin presses her lips together. “Going naked,” she mutters.

Holtz’s eyebrows shoot to the sky. “Wow. Are your thoughts that bad, Gilbert?”

Erin doesn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t want to keep playing.”

“Too bad,” Abby says. “Pick someone.”

Erin grits her teeth. “Fine. Patty.” She wracks her brain and eyes the three of them in the tub. “Have you ever peed in a pool?”

“Yes,” Patty said instantly. “Come on; that’s so easy. Okay, Holtzy, what’s the most public place you’ve ever had sex?”

Holtz immediately pales. “Uh…maybe Erin’s right. This was a stupid idea.”

Erin shifts forward on the bench, her sweaty legs sticking and pulling uncomfortably. “If I had to answer, so do you.”

Holtz meets her eyes, and there’s something that looks like fear in them. “I don’t—I—” Her panicked gaze flits between the three of them.

“Come on,” Patty teases, clearly not picking up on what Erin sees: this isn’t embarrassment.

Something is wrong.

“A—a fountain,” Holtz chokes out in barely more than a whisper.

Abby and Patty laugh.

“Dude, why do you have so many stories involving fountains?” Abby jokes.

Holtz scrambles out of the water, drops flying everywhere.

“What are you—”

She runs for the door, leaving wet footprints behind her.

After the door slams shut behind her, Abby and Patty look at Erin.

“What the hell was that?” Abby says.

“I’m gonna…” Erin stands swiftly, not bothering to finish her sentence, just grabbing Holtz’s shoes and robe.

Holtz is in the changing room, sitting on the bench dividing the room, water pooling at her feet, head in her hands.

Erin carefully sits beside her.

“If you want to talk about it…”

“I don’t,” Holtz says stiffly, voice muffled. She lifts her head and sniffles. “Not here.”

Erin nods, not sure what else she can do. She hands Holtz the robe. She takes it onto her own lap but doesn’t move to put it on.

“Truth or Consequences,” she says quietly. “As if they don’t usually go hand-in-hand. Truth _and_ consequences. Truth _with_ consequences. I don’t think there’s a such thing as truth without consequences.”

Erin licks her lips and stares straight ahead of her at the row of lockers. “I don’t think there is either.”

Erin tosses and turns, skin flush with sweat, sheets tangled around her ankles.

“You okay?” comes Holtz’s quiet voice through the dark.

Erin jumps then stills. “I’m sorry. Am I keeping you awake?”

“Nah. I’m also too warm.”

“It’s _way_ too hot,” Erin groans. “How do people live in places like this?”

“I don’t think they do,” Holtz says. “It’s all a conspiracy. They actually all migrate north for the summer.”

Erin laughs softly. “That sounds accurate.”

She can just barely make out Holtz’s smile in the dark of the hotel room.

She chews on her lip. “Since we’re awake…”

“Please don’t suggest something that involves getting even sweatier,” Holtz says.

Erin laughs lightly again. “No. I, um…just wondered if maybe you wanted to talk about what happened earlier.

Holtz falls quiet. “I was hoping maybe you’d forgotten about that.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Erin says quickly. “I just thought…you know. It seemed important. I’m here if you want to talk.”

Holtz pauses, then sighs.

“Leah,” she says simply.

“I figured,” Erin says softly. She waits.

“I’ve been arrested three times in my life,” Holtz says.

Erin blinks. “Okay,” she says, sure that it’s connected to this story somehow—but also wondering how she’s known Holtz for three years and never heard this information before.

“Once, during a protest,” Holtz says. “When the cops showed up, I became…a little less than peaceful. Let’s just say that if I wasn’t a twenty-something white woman, things would’ve gone a hell of a lot worse.”

Erin swallows.

“Another time was for possession of an…illegal substance,” Holtz continues.

“Drugs,” Erin clarifies.

A hefty pause. “Sure,” Holtz says. “Let’s go with that.”

“ _Holtz_. When was this?”

“Like, three months before I met you.”

“What the h—”

“But the last time—the _first_ time—was when I was 18,” Holtz says.

Erin quiets in her chiding and braces herself.

“Public indecency,” Holtz says quietly.

“Was she arrested, too?” Erin asks, equally as quiet.

“No,” Holtz says. “No, she was the one who called the cops.”

Erin reaches for the lamp on the bedside table and turns it on. Holtz blinks, clearly startled by the sudden light.

“What?” Erin says, voice straining.

Holtz doesn’t meet her eyes. “She set me up.”

Erin can only stare at her.

“She made it seem like it was this spur-of-the-moment idea. It was the middle of the night, and we passed this stupid fountain and she made me get in and take my clothes off and I did it _,_ I was such an idiot and I _did it_ , because I did _everything_ she told me to do.”

Tears are gathering in the corners of Holtz’s eyes.

“You’re not an idiot,” Erin murmurs.

Holtz shakes her head. “She didn’t get in. She sat at the side and she touched me and she waited until I was almost there and then she _walked away_ and told me to stay there, wait for her, and I _did it_ , and that’s when the cops showed up, and she stood there and told them that she’d witnessed me take off all my clothes and get into the fountain and touch myself and how _disgusted_ she was, how _inappropriate_ and _indecent_ it was, how she had called them right away to make sure that the _pervert in the fountain_ was taken away and locked up—and I said _nothing_ , I _couldn’t_ , I was terrified and ashamed and I didn’t understand what she was doing and what I’d done _wrong_ to deserve it and I—”

“Holtz, Holtz,” Erin says, trying to slow her down before she escalates into a full meltdown.

Holtz’s cheeks are wet.

“Can I hug you?” Erin asks.

Holtz shakes her head.

“Okay,” Erin says. “Honey, I need you to know that you did _nothing_ to deserve that. It was _not_ your fault. She was manipulative and abusive and cruel and she set you up for public humiliation and it was not your fault. You trusted her and she abused that trust.”

Holtz still won’t meet her eyes. “I had the last exam of my undergrad the next day. I failed it. That’s why she’d planned it—to fuck with my degree because I was about to graduate and escape from her. I passed the class anyway. I had a high-enough mark going in that I made it. Barely.”

“Who bailed you out of jail?” Erin asks softly.

Holtz’s eyes fill with tears again and she doesn’t answer.

“Did _she_ bail you out?” Erin asks incredulously.

“I didn’t have anybody else,” Holtz says in a small voice.

“Your parents?”

“Were in Florida,” Holtz says. “I never told them.”

“So…so she bailed you out. Did you call her?”

“Yes,” Holtz says. “She was so happy with herself. All she really wanted to do was remind me who was in charge. I know that now. But at the time…” She clenches and unclenches her fists. “We got back to our apartment. I hadn’t said a single word since she picked me up. I left to go bomb my exam, and when I got back, she was out. Probably out with her friends. I don’t know. I shoved as much of my stuff as I could fit in my backpack and duffel bag, and left to go check into a hotel.”

“Wow,” Erin breathes. “That takes a lot of courage to remove yourself from that situation. That’s not easy. I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t for my benefit,” Holtz says darkly. “I thought she didn’t want me anymore. I thought I was doing her a favour by leaving.”

Erin is quiet for a second. “All the same. I’m glad you left when you did.”

“I graduated a couple months later, and my family came to New York for my graduation, and I couldn’t explain why I was living in a hotel. I moved home with them, and…well, you’ve heard the rest of the story.”

Erin swallows and nods.

Holtz bites her lip. “You can hug me now.”

Erin doesn’t need to be asked twice. She pulls her wife towards her, wrapping her arms around her back and holding her tight despite the heat. Holtz’s tank top is damp with sweat as well, but not soaked through like Erin’s.

“It’s okay,” Erin says softly. “I’m here.”

Holtz buries her face in Erin’s chest and exhales roughly, trembling slightly.

Erin holds her.

She holds her, because for now that’s all she can do.

And as she always does, she hopes it’s enough.

Holtz falls asleep quickly in her arms, but Erin remains awake: restless and far too hot, but unwilling to let go of her wife even for a second.

A few increasingly unbearable hours pass, and then abruptly Erin finds herself crying out, ripping herself from Holtz, and running for the bathroom. She’s vaguely aware of Holtz calling her name.

She makes it to the toilet just in time to heave over it, and Holtz catches up with her a few seconds later, coming to kneel on the tiled floor beside her.

“Are you pregnant?” she cracks.

“Funny joke,” Erin manages to get out before heaving again.

“Some kind of bug?” Holtz murmurs, resting a hand on Erin’s back. “Food poisoning? Oh my god, you’re so sweaty.”

Erin tries to shove her away, but her arm is weak and shaking. Holtz takes the hint anyway and pulls her hand back, moving to sit a couple feet away, staying silent.

Erin empties the contents of her stomach and then some, and then slumps down. Holtz, meanwhile, has taken a hand towel and wet it with cold water from the sink. She holds it to Erin’s face in a U-shape, covering her forehead and cheeks.

The coolness feels good, but it’s gone all too soon as the towel warms on Erin’s skin.

“Maybe a cold shower…” Holtz suggests hesitantly.

Erin nods weakly. Holtz hops up immediately and turns the shower on.

Erin struggles her sweat-drenched pajamas off and climbs clumsily into the tub with some help from Holtz. She doesn’t trust her legs not to give out, so she opts to sit, knees to her chest, letting the cold water spray down on her back. She stays there until she’s shivering.

“Holtz,” she says quietly.

No response. She cranes her head around the half-closed shower curtain to see that Holtz is slumped with her back against the tub, asleep.

“Holtz,” she says louder.

Holtz flinches and swings her head around, blinking, disoriented. “Hey.”

“Can you help me get out?”

“Sure, sure.” Holtz scrambles up and shuts the water off. She helps Erin to her feet and out of the shower, then sits her on the edge of the tub and wraps a towel around her. She holds the back of her hand to Erin’s forehead. “Still warm.”

“It’s fine,” Erin says. She’s still shivering. “I just want to go to sleep.”

The thought of getting back into her sweaty pajamas disgusts her, so she ends up changing into clean underwear and then getting into bed like that. Holtz gives her lots of space, making sure no part of their skin is touching.

Erin is sweating again in no time. She doesn’t sleep, just tosses and turns until their alarm goes off at 4:00am. They have to make it to Houston by 3:00pm for their lecture, and it’s a 10.5 hour drive.

Holtz looks bleary-eyed as she gets dressed.

“Are you going to be okay to drive?” Erin asks anxiously, knowing that she kept her up most of the night.

“I’ll be fine,” Holtz says. “I’m more worried about you.”

Erin has dressed in her lightest clothes and is sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m fine,” she says, and it’s mostly the truth. Her stomach is still upset, and her head hurts from the lack of sleep.

They meet up with Abby and Patty and check out, and soon they’re on the road again. Erin curls up in the booth with her eyes closed and fights back nausea as they drive. Patty sits opposite her with her textbook open on the table, eyeing her warily.

Upon greeting them in the morning, Abby had remarked how horrible Erin looked, and Holtz had graciously announced that she had thrown up in the middle of the night. Ever since then, they’ve been avoiding her like the plague.

She tells them that she’s fine, but her whole body is aching in a way that suggests maybe she _is_ coming down with something, so she doesn’t blame them for keeping their distance.

Abby’s up front with Holtz, and Erin hasn’t heard much of their conversation, but the tone of it keeps switching, from civil to hostile to friendly to snippy. Erin resigns to not keeping up after a while.

They stop for a quick breakfast a couple hours into the drive. Erin doesn’t order anything, not wanting to upset her stomach any more. Her headache is only getting worse, and it’s starting to add to the nausea even more.

They head out again. Erin’s head throbs. The RV is too warm—the AC doesn’t work very well, unless you’re sitting up front.

“Erin.”

She opens her eyes and lifts her head, and the room spins. She focuses on Patty. “What?”

“You okay? You’re super pale.”

“I’m fine,” Erin snaps, sick of them all asking.

Patty’s face darkens, and she opens her mouth to say something back, but at that moment there’s a loud bang and the RV bumps like it’s hit something.

Holtz swears loudly from up front.

“What the hell was that?” Patty calls.

The bumping continues as the vehicle decelerates and Holtz steers it to the shoulder. “I think we blew a tire,” she says.

Erin groans. “Are you kidding me? We don’t have time for that.”

The RV rolls to a stop and shuts off. Holtz bounds from her seat and down the stairs, disappearing with Abby outside.

Erin uses the table to push herself up.

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Patty suggests, getting up herself.

“Maybe you should mind your own business,” Erin says.

Patty huffs but follows behind her as Erin walks shakily to the door.

The second she steps into the blinding desert heat outside, her headache goes from throbbing to feeling like her skull is going to split open.

Holtz is crouching by the tire closest to the door. “It’s destroyed, alright. Ripped to shreds.”

“Kay, fine, get to it then,” Erin says with irritation, waving her hand.

Holtz stands and looks at her.

“I know you can change a tire,” Erin says huffily. “Go get the spare.”

Holtz’s head drops a little, eyes going to her feet. “Uh. There’s…there’s no spare.”

For a second, Erin can only stare, sweat dripping down her back in the beating sun. “What the _fuck?_ You _told_ me before we left that you checked for the spare. You _promised_.”

“I know,” Holtz says, voice pained. “I fucked up.”

“Damn right you fucked up,” Erin yells. “Are you serious? You’re such an _idiot!_ Who the hell lies about there being a spare tire? How the _hell_ could you be so stupid?”

Little spots are appearing in her vision.

Across from her, Holtz’s expression turns from one of shame to one of concern.

“Erin?” she says. “Are you—”

But Erin doesn’t hear the rest, because the edges of her vision are turning purple and the barren landscape is blurring and tilting and as it fades to black, the last thing she’s aware of is warm hands catching her.

She regains consciousness on the floor of the Ectobus.

She’s on her side, one knee bent, one arm extended, the other tucked under her head. Her mouth tastes bad and something nearby smells even worse.

Patty is sitting on the floor in front of her.

“Hey,” she says grimly. “Don’t move.”

Erin’s head is still pounding, and she feels just as hot as she did last night. “Did I throw up?” she croaks.

Patty nods.

Embarrassment seeps through Erin. “Where’s Holtz?”

“Outside, calling the mechanic.”

Right. The tire. Erin closes her eyes.

She opens her eyes at the sound of someone entering the vehicle.

“They’re on their way,” she says to Patty.

“The mechanic?” Erin asks.

Holtz crouches in front of her. Her own face is ashen. “Yeah,” she says after a hesitation.

Erin closes her eyes again. It’s too bright. Too warm. Too everything.

A few minutes later, she hears it. Faintly.

Her eyes fly open. “Are those sirens?”

“No,” Holtz lies poorly.

Erin tries to sit up, but Patty’s firm hand on her shoulder forces her back down.

“There’s a hospital ten miles from here, in Fort Stockton,” Patty says. “You’re going.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Erin says, panic mounting. “I’m not going.”

“It’s too late,” Patty says. “The ambulance is already on its way.”

“I’m sorry,” Holtz says, pain in her eyes. She stands up. “I’m going to go wave down the ambulance.”

“Big RV with an obnoxiously large ghost painted on the side,” Erin mutters. “Yeah, I’m sure they need the help.”

Patty rolls her eyes at her as Holtz slips from the van.

Despite her best efforts to convince everyone otherwise, Erin soon finds herself on an examination table at the Pecos County Memorial Hospital while a nurse berates her with a billion questions.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?”

Erin glances at Holtz. “No.”

The nurse looks up from the clipboard at her hesitation. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Erin says tightly.

“We’ll do a test to make sure,” the nurse says, a little condescendingly.

“Look, lady, that’s my wife right there,” Erin snaps, pointing at Holtz. “Why don’t you ask her?”

The nurse stares at her for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” she says in a pinched tone.

“You probably didn’t need to yell at her,” Holtz says.

“And she _probably_ didn’t need to give me attitude,” Erin says. “If I say I’m not pregnant, I’m not pregnant. Jesus.”

“Okay,” Holtz says, holding her hands up. “Let’s just take some deep breaths.”

“Shut up,” Erin says. The florescent lights overhead are just making her head pound more. “I’m fine. We need to get back on the road. I need to get out of here. I’m fine.”

But she’s not fine, she soon finds out, and before she knows it, she’s tethered to an IV.

“Heat exhaustion,” Holtz says into her phone, standing down by the foot of Erin’s bed. “Yeah.” She pauses while whoever she’s talking to—Abby or Patty—replies, then glances at Erin. “She’s, uh…well, she’s resting.”

“Give me the phone,” Erin says.

Holtz holds up a finger. “Oh—what’s that? You have to go? Alright, talk to you soon—bye.”

She hangs up with a shrug.

Erin crosses her arms. “Subtle.”

“You’re not yourself right now,” Holtz says. “I think it’s better for everyone to limit your contact with the outside world.”

“I hate you.”

Holtz sits on the edge of the bed. “No you don’t. You just have heat exhaustion. And you’re extremely dehydrated.”

Erin makes a face and grabs the cup of ice chips that the nurse left her. “How long are they going to keep me here? We have to get going. We’re going to miss our lecture.”

Something briefly crosses Holtz’s face. “Don’t worry about that.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

Holtz grimaces. “It’s going to take a little longer than anticipated to get a new tire.”

Erin’s eye twitches. “How much longer?”

“Long enough that you don’t need to worry about being here,” Holtz says, words tumbling so fast out of her mouth that Erin nearly misses them.

“Are we going to have to cancel the stop?” Erin asks in an even voice.

Holtz holds her gaze for a moment. “Yes.”

Erin stares at her. “Give me your phone.”

“No,” Holtz says. “We’ll take care of it. You just rest.”

Erin huffs. “I’m f—”

“Humour me?” Holtz pleads. “I watched you lose consciousness earlier.”

Erin shrinks back. “Okay.”

Holtz nods solemnly, pats Erin’s leg, and picks herself up off the bed, slipping out into the hallway with her phone.

The second she’s gone, Erin’s heart rate starts to climb at being left alone. She’s not a fan of hospitals, and _really_ not a fan of being taken to them against her will.

But Holtz isn’t her parents, and she can’t resent her for taking her here in the circumstances, even though she could’ve easily recovered from heat exhaustion on her own if they’d known that’s what it was. All she really needed was water and to cool down.

Holtz comes back into the room half an hour later and tells her that the lecture in Houston has been cancelled, and that the Ectobus is en route into town via tow truck.

“I’m sorry about the tire,” Holtz says pitifully.

“It’s fine,” Erin says. “I overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t,” Holtz says. “You’re right. I’m an idiot. I knew we didn’t have a spare and let us leave anyway.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Erin mumbles. “And I shouldn’t have called you one. You should’ve known better, and you shouldn’t have lied to me, but you’re not an idiot.”

Holtz looks like she doesn’t buy it, but is distracted by her phone ringing again.

“Hola,” she says, plugging her ear with her finger even though it’s completely quiet. “Hey. Yeah. Looks like we might be here a while—do you guys wanna find us a hotel for tonight?”

Erin starts to protest, but Holtz gets up from the bed and walks away.

“Cool. Yeah. I’ll text you.” She glances at Erin. “Uhhh…probably better not to. Okay. Talk to you later.”

She hangs up.

“Abby?” Erin guesses.

“Patty,” Holtz says. “They’re at the mechanic and figuring out where they should go. I suggested they go find a hotel.”

“I heard,” Erin says dryly. “We’re not staying the night here.”

“You might not have much choice,” Holtz says, eyeing the IV. “Besides, I don’t think we’re getting a new tire until tomorrow anyway.”

“ _Seriously?_ It’s a _tire!_ ”

“Special kind of tire,” Holtz mumbles. “It’s coming in from San Antonio.”

Erin groans and wishes desperately that she wasn’t trapped here so she could go cool off—metaphorically speaking. Everything is getting on her nerves right now, and Holtz doesn’t deserve that.

Holtz seems to take the hint and makes herself scarce, coming in and out, not leaving her alone for long but not hovering either. She dutifully eats hospital food for lunch with Erin. She wards off Patty and Abby from visiting, which Erin appreciates.

Afternoon fades to evening, and Erin hopes that somebody will come release her. She feels fine, now. Hydrated. Her headache is gone, her body temperature is more normal, and her stomach has quieted down.

Her worst fears come to fruition, though, when the same nurse from earlier informs her that she’s going to be staying the night. And worse—Holtz can’t stay with her.

Erin is halfway through plotting an escape plan in her head when Holtz smooths back the hair from her face and kisses her forehead.

“It’ll be okay,” she says. “I love you. We’ll come spring you out first thing tomorrow morning.”

She stays until the nurse comes and kicks her out for the night, and then Erin is alone.

She spends a little bit of time awake, restless and unable to sleep, but then eventually succumbs to the fatigue from her sleepless night and the day’s events, and sinks into darkness.

Holtz isn’t there when she wakes up, even though visiting hours are already open, and Erin’s first reaction is panic. A nurse—a different one from yesterday—readies her for discharge.

“But my wife isn’t here,” Erin keeps saying. She doesn’t even have her phone to call and figure out where she is.

She’s dangerously close to a full panic attack when Holtz comes slinking in, expression that of a child who’s broken something valuable.

“Where have you been?” Erin asks, too relieved to be angry.

“Dealing with something,” Holtz says, and her guilty expression only deepens.

Erin stares at her. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Holtz says quickly. “Just, uhhhhhhhhhhhh…don’t go on the internet.”

“What?” Erin says quickly. “Why? What’s going on?”

Holtz grimaces. “It’s…maybe possible…that people _may_ have found out that you were admitted to the hospital.”

Erin’s stomach bottoms out. “Oh my god. _How?!_ ”

“And people maaaaay think…possibly, kinda sorta maybe…that you’re dead.”

_“What?!”_ Erin screeches. “How—how did—why— _how?_ How did you—”

“My mom phoned,” Holtz says.

“ _Your mom thinks I’m dead?!”_

Holtz holds up her hands. “No, _no_ , she was phoning to _ask_.”

“Holtz!”

“I know, I know, it’s bad.”

Abby comes waltzing into the room. “We have a PR problem,” she says at top volume.

“I’m _dead?!”_

“Oh, good, you already know,” Abby says.

Patty has come in behind her. “So, uh, Erin…”

“She knows,” Abby says.

Erin shakes her head rapidly. “How did this _happen?_ How the hell did people find out I’m here?”

“Your wife’s Twitter,” Abby says.

Holtz glares at her. “Thank you, Abigail, I was going to leave that part out.”

Erin swats Holtz’s arm. “You _told_ people? You _tweeted_ about it?”

“I did no such thing,” Holtz whines. “I just…maybe tweeted a photo of the outside of the hospital with the caption ‘ _my boo_ —broken heart emoji.’”

“ _Holtz_.”

“I said _nothing_ about anything else,” Holtz says. “It is _not_ my fault that people jumped to conclusions because of the lecture being cancelled. You know how it is with the internet. Things spiral.”

“But—but you told people that the reason for the cancellation was car trouble!”

Three sheepish expressions stare back at her.

“We didn’t really give a reason,” Abby admits. “We said ‘unforeseen circumstances.’”

“To be fair, I _did_ post a photo of the Ectobus on Instagram with the caption ‘RIP,’” Patty says. She pauses and thinks to herself. “Which…might be where the rumour that you were hit _by_ the bus came from.”

Erin gapes at her.

“If it helps, people are devastated,” Holtz says.

Patty nods. “There was a vigil outside the firehouse last night. Kevin texted a photo. He thought it was a bird funeral.”

“Fantastic,” Erin says. “That’s great news. _Great_ news. Glad my death is being mourned as properly as a bird’s.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Oh please. Ignore Kevin. There’s like, hundreds of messages that came in overnight, and most people are really upset.”

“Most people,” Erin repeats.

Both Abby and Patty look at Holtz.

“All people,” Holtz corrects forcefully. “ _Everyone_ is very distraught. Stay off the internet.”

“I read one article that said we were going to continue the tour with you as a ghost,” Abby says. “So…there’s that.”

Erin closes her eyes and shakes her head in disbelief. “You know, I did not think we were famous enough to have fake death reports.”

“Well, we would’ve expected Holtzy to have one,” Patty says. “People are always making up crazy shit about her.”

Holtz nods. “I’m shocked it hasn’t happened yet, if I’m being honest.”

Erin gestures. “That’s what I mean. I’m just the ‘loser’ of the group, remember? Didn’t think people cared enough to kill me off.”

All three of them protest. Erin waves them off and gets up from the bed.

“Whatever. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

Turns out, they can’t just get the hell out of there—the Ectobus isn’t ready yet.

This is how Erin finds herself sitting on a bench just inside the hospital entrance with Holtz. She taps her foot anxiously and distracts herself by catching up on her phone’s notifications.

Sure enough, there’s a couple texts from Kevin about the shrine. There’s also one from Holtz from last night after she left that just says _I love you,_ even though she knew that Erin didn’t have her phone with her. Erin smiles at that.

Then, she can’t help it, she goes on the internet.

It’s a little surreal reading through some of the articles. Some of them are off the walls, but the more reputable sites stick to the truth better.

_The New York City team of paranormal researchers known as the Ghostbusters have cancelled their Houston tour stop after team member Erin Gilbert was transported to hospital early Friday morning. There is no information known about her condition at this point in time, but the Ghostbusters have not cancelled any other stops on their 14-city North American tour._

“At least this is good publicity for the tour,” Erin mumbles.

Holtz’s head snaps up. “I told you not to go on the internet.”

She tries to grab for Erin’s phone, but Erin holds it out of the way.

“I’m not! I’m just…reading a few articles.”

Holtz pouts. “Seriously. It’s for your own good.”

“I promise I won’t go on Twitter,” Erin says, but as she says it, she clicks on the app.

She has a rarely-used account, and only really follows her friends and a few physicists she admires. It’s easy to find Holtz’s tweet; it’s at the top of her feed. It has several thousand likes and retweets.

Holtz is watching her. “Erin…” she warns.

Erin angles her phone screen further away from Holtz and taps on the tweet to see the replies.

Holtz tries to grab her phone again, but Erin holds her off with one hand while scrolling with the other.

And then her stomach sinks.

She quickly turns the screen off, both arms falling to her lap.

“I told you not to look,” Holtz says.

“It’s fine,” Erin says. “I should’ve known that people would be happy to know I’m no longer in the picture.”

Holtz shakes her head roughly. “Those people are sick, Er. Jumping on someone’s _death_ to make a comment about how I’m available now? It’s disgusting. Inappropriate doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“Wow, coming from you, that’s something,” Erin jokes.

Holtz scoffs. “Come on. I’m far above _that_ level of insensitive. Christ. Also, _please_ , do these assholes not know _anything?_ _Obviously_ me and my super hot Ghost Wife would continue to be happy together until the end of time. ’Til death do us _not_ part, thank you very much.”

Erin chuckles darkly.

Holtz takes her hand. “Anyway, fuck those guys. You’ll be happy to know I _didn’t_ reply to any of them and let them have it. Even though I wanted to.”

Erin nods. “Thank you.”

“Also.” Holtz squeezes her hand and clears her throat uncomfortably. “I’m really glad you’re okay. I was really scared,” she says in a small voice.

Erin’s heart pangs. “I _am_ okay. Really. That was nothing.”

“It was something,” Holtz says gravely. “And as much as this whole situation is funny—” She gestures at Erin’s phone— “I don’t want to think about you dying.”

“It was just heat exhaustion.”

“Yeah,” Holtz agrees, “but it was almost heat stroke. And it’s not just that—I don’t want to lose you just because you’re stubborn and won’t admit when something is wrong.”

Erin bites her lip, stomach flipping, and nods.

“Also, I really missed you last night,” Holtz adds. “I didn’t like sleeping without you. No more of that, okay?”

Erin nods again, this time happier. “I really missed you too. And I promise not to pull anything like that again. I think it would be bad for business if I died again.”

“On the other hand, it’s a _very_ fitting advertisement. We’ve been trending for like 12 hours.”

“I’m sure Abby would’ve found a way to monetize my death,” Erin says dryly.

Holtz snorts. “Speaking of which—we gotta figure out a way to break the good news to the masses.”

Erin groans. “Knowing Abby, she’ll want to hold a press conference. I don’t want any more attention on me about this whole stupid thing. Nobody needs to know anything else about what happened. Period.”

“Fair,” Holtz says. She pauses for a moment, thinking, and then pulls out her own phone. “Do you trust me?”

Erin hesitates. “Yes.”

“Okay. Stay still.” Holtz unlocks her phone and opens up Snapchat, turning on the front camera and holding it up in front of her own face so Erin’s not in the shot, then she starts recording.

“Hey, Ghost Girls,” she says solemnly. “As some of you have already pieced together, we suffered a great loss yesterday morning.” She pauses for dramatic emphasis. “We had to say goodbye to one of the Ectobus’s tires, struck down on Interstate 10 at 8:02am on June 28th, 2019. Gone too soon.”

She pivots, panning the camera so Erin’s in the frame, and throws her arm around her.

“My wife has been a great support in this difficult time, and I love her very much.”

Erin hides her smile by kissing Holtz’s cheek.

“I ask that you respect our privacy while we mourn. Thank you. This is Dr. Holtzmann and Dr. Gilbert signing off.”

Erin gives a little wave, and Holtz stops recording. The video starts to play back, but she posts it before watching it through.

“Done,” she says cheerfully. “Dr. Erin Gilbert hath risen.”

“You’ve probably just traumatized a fleet of teenage girls,” Erin says.

Holtz winks. “I do that every day, baby.”

Both of their phones immediately buzz at the same time.

“Wow, Abby doesn’t miss a thing,” Erin says.

Holtz opens up the text, her face lighting up. “It _is_ Abby—they’re outside with the Ectobus!” She punches the air excitedly. “My other love hath risen as well.”

“Finally,” Erin says, rising from the bench a little too quickly—her head spinning slightly at the movement.

Holtz grabs her arm to steady her. “Easy there, Ghost Girl. Let’s keep you living another day, alright?”

Erin loops her arm through Holtz’s elbow and grabs hold of her bicep for support. “You got it,” she says. “Now let’s get out of this stupid hospital.”

“You got it,” Holtz parrots with a smile, and leads the way.

_I been afraid, don't wanna fade out of my body_

_I been astray, barely awake, floating above me_

_covered in gray, what can I say? I've been a zombie_

_I'm feeling like I've been locked in a grave_


	5. cool out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is honestly a rollercoaster and i can't even keep up myself with the whiplash. idek guys - i finished this chapter like half an hour ago and did not anticipate posting anything today but here i am and today has been a Day so might as well add this to the mix

[cool out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4uIGdkgyug)

_only believe what I can see_

_I live my life in black and white_

_I know that's not what you would like_

_that's all I know_

The first thing Erin sees when she steps inside the Ectobus is the flat of bottled water. The second thing is the massive cooler full of ice. The third is a spray bottle filled with water.

“This is overkill,” she says.

“You will spray yourself once every twenty minutes at least,” Holtz informs her. “And drink a bottle of water every hour.”

Erin starts to protest, but Holtz cuts her off with a look.

“Non-negotiable,” she says.

Erin grumbles, but takes the chilled water bottle from Holtz’s outstretched hand, uncaps it, and takes a swig.

“Thank you,” Holtz says. “Oh, also, you’re exclusively sitting up front close to the air conditioning from now on.”

“Fine,” Erin sighs.

“You could look a little more excited about getting to sit next to your wife,” Holtz reminds her.

Erin forces a smile onto her face. “Silver linings,” she mutters as she sinks into the passenger’s seat.

Due to the unexpected delay, they’re a whole day behind schedule. They were supposed to leave from Houston hours ago and drive to New Orleans, but because they never made it to Houston yesterday, now they have to play catch-up and drive the remaining seven hours on top of the five-and-a-quarter hours they had scheduled.

Luckily, they don’t have a lecture stop in New Orleans that they’ll have to cancel—this was a scheduled vacation day. Unluckily, they’re going to lose the entire day as it stands. Even more unluckily, Erin has been instructed to keep out of the sun for as much as possible over the next week, as she’ll be more sensitive to the heat while she recovers from her bout of heat exhaustion.

This is how she finds herself trapped in their hotel room in New Orleans after 12 hours in the RV, which seems like it’s getting smaller and smaller every day they spend in it. Even with Holtz flooring it the entire drive in an effort to recoup some lost time, they still didn’t get in until after the sun had set.

Abby and Patty had immediately left to go out on the town, and Erin wanted to join them, but Holtz overruled.

“It’s dark out,” Erin had argued. “The doctor said no _sun_.”

“It’s still hot. You need to be inside where there’s AC,” Holtz had argued back.

Erin was too exhausted to fight her on it. She resigned to sulking in the corner of the room.

Holtz is pacing, doing lunges across the floor.

“Jake arrived,” she says.

Erin eyes her. “Safe trip?”

“Guess so.” Holtz windmills her arms. “I asked how Mom looked, and he never replied.”

Erin pauses. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know.” Holtz starts doing jumping jacks. “Kind of a dick move to not even reply, but I guess I deserve it.”

“Can you just leave?” Erin says with exasperation.

Holtz stops. “What?”

Erin gestures at her. “You clearly are itching to not be here. Just go. Catch up with Abby and Patty. I’ll just go to sleep.”

Holtz blinks. “No, I…I’m just really feeling the twelve hours sitting today, that’s all.” She dips her head. “And all the time sitting in uncomfortable hospital chairs yesterday,” she adds in a mumble.

“You didn’t spend _that_ long in a hospital chair,” Erin replies snippily.

Holtz sizes her up, then drags the luggage rack over and sits precariously on it, the straps straining under her weight. She steeples her hands.

“Let’s debrief about the last 48 hours,” she says solemnly. “I feel like we have a lot of feelings that are unresolved. I would like you to tell me how yesterday made you feel.”

“I’m not in the mood for therapy exercises,” Erin says bitterly.

“Tough shit,” Holtz says, dropping her hands. “We’re either going to talk about what’s upsetting us, or we’re going to get over it. There’s no other option.”

“Fine,” Erin snaps. “I _feel_ betrayed and pissed off that you forced me to go to a hospital.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

Now Holtz looks pissed. “We’re not playing games, Erin. Not today. I can’t read your mind. I’m _asking_ you to explain your feelings so I can learn from them—I’m not asking you to give me attitude.”

“You already know why I don’t like hospitals,” Erin says shortly. “Use deductive reasoning.”

Holtz stands suddenly, fists balling. “I’m not your parents, Erin. I love you.”

Erin recoils like she’s been slapped. “Wow.”

Holtz steps backwards into the luggage rack. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She runs her hand through her hair and turns, walking towards the middle of the room. “You passed out in the middle of the desert, Erin—what was I _supposed_ to do?”

“Give me some water and keep me out of the heat,” Erin says. “At the very least, waited until I was conscious and asked me how I _was_ before calling a goddamn ambulance.”

Holtz whirls around. “I was _scared_ , Erin. I _love_ you and you were _clearly_ not fine, you’d been throwing up all night and you were as pale as a corpse and you kept insisting that you were _fine_ and you _weren’t_. So don’t you _dare_ say I wasn’t acting in your best interests. If you had a heart attack, would you yell at me for taking you to the hospital? Huh?”

“It was heat exhaustion,” Erin mumbles stubbornly.

Holtz throws her hands up in the air. “Fine. Fine. Next time I won’t do anything. I’ll let you drop dead before I take you to the hospital. Have it your way.”

Erin crosses her arms and resists the urge to stamp her foot. “Can you not be so black and white for one fucking minute?”

“Can you be _clear_ for once and tell me what I should have done differently instead of just making me feel like shit?”

“You want clear? Okay, Holtzmann, maybe when I give you _explicit_ instructions to get a spare fucking tire for the RV, and I remind you twice to do it, and I ask you the night before we leave, point blank, if the spare tire is in the car, _don’t look me in the eye and lie to me_. Is that _clear_ enough for you?”

“You want to know the truth about the tire?” Holtz shouts. “You told me a zillion times about it and I _still forgot_ because I’m a _fucking idiot_ , and it was the night before we were leaving and there was _no time_ to get one, it was too late, and I knew I could either tell you and have you _yell_ at me about how _stupid_ I was, or I could lie and pray that we made it through the trip without needing a spare. And I took the coward’s option, okay? I didn’t want to look you in the eyes and tell you that I fucked up _again_ and let you down _again_.”

“I wouldn’t have yelled at you!”

Holtz waves her arms. “You’re yelling at me right now!”

A knock on the door tears them both from the argument.

Holtz is closer, so she answers it.

On the other side of the door, Abby stands, chest red like it gets when she’s been drinking.

“Heyyyy,” she trills. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”

Holtz looks back at Erin.

“Seven,” Erin says.

Abby flashes a peace sign and looks back and forth between them. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No.” Erin stands and walks hurriedly to the door. “Actually, I was just heading out. I need some air.”

“Erin—” Holtz starts.

“Don’t,” Erin says without looking at her.

As she pushes past Abby out into the hallway, she swears she hears her say: “What’s _her_ problem?”

There’s nowhere for Erin to really go, at almost-midnight, without her wallet or phone, wearing her pajamas. She ends up sinking into one of the leather couches in the sprawling lobby, arms crossed over her chest to hide the fact that she’s not wearing a bra.

She gets a few odd looks, but most people ignore her.

She was expecting—hoping, maybe—that Holtz would follow after her, but there’s no sign of her wife. She sits there half-watching the news playing on a flatscreen mounted to a nearby wall until she feels like she’s cooled down enough, and then she trudges back upstairs.

She knocks on the hotel room door and waits, tapping her foot.

A few seconds pass, then Patty opens the door and frowns.

“Hey,” Erin says, stepping around her into the room. “Sorry, I’m avoiding—Holtz?”

Her wife freezes, one hand buried in a bag of chips, sitting on one of the beds with Abby beside her. The TV is on, various snack food strewn around the bedspread along with a few bottles from the minibar.

“Hey,” Holtz says, sounding like a chip is lodged in her throat. “I…didn’t know when you were coming back, so I...”

“Decided to come party?” Erin says, folding her arms.

A pause, and Holtz withdraws her arm from the chip bag and scrambles off the bed. “See you guys tomorrow,” she says quickly.

Erin waits until she’s squeezed past her, then gives Abby and Patty a dirty look and follows her out into the hallway and shuts the door behind them.

“You’re not allowed to be mad about this, too,” Holtz says. “I left you a note on our door.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m allowed to be mad about,” Erin says with a huff. “Maybe you should have followed me instead of going to hang out with your friends.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stormed off in the middle of an argument when I explicitly asked you the other day not to do that again.”

Erin is silent. They reach their own room and Holtz unlocks the door, snatching the note that’s stuck to it.

“Fine,” Erin says as soon as they’re inside. “I won’t do it again.”

“You said that last time.”

“Yeah? And you say you won’t do all _sorts_ of stuff again, and you still do. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

It’s an almost-comical thing to say. To call _Holtz_ the hypocrite.

Holtz sits rigidly on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Erin says with a sigh. “And then…we’ll talk.”

Holtz nods stiffly.

Erin takes her time in the shower, and by the time she’s finished, she’s cooled down again. She emerges from the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel.

Holtz hasn’t moved.

Erin sits down beside her, the bed indenting with her weight. She pauses, collecting herself, then turns her head. “I don’t want you to be scared to tell me things because you think I’m going to react badly.”

Holtz hangs her head.

“I don’t want you to lie to me either,” Erin says, looking down at her hands. The hypocrite alarm continues to blare in her head. “I would rather you admit that you messed up, with an acknowledgment that you should’ve known better, than pretend that you didn’t. I can’t promise that I’ll never be upset, but…I’ll try to control my reactions better. Obviously, I overreacted about the dumb tire. It’s not the end of the world that you forgot it. I need to remember that.”

Holtz wrings her hands. “I just hate it when you’re mad at me,” she says in a small voice. “I hate disappointing you.”

“I’m not disappointed in you,” Erin says. “Frustrated, sure. Upset, yes. But mostly I’m just scared that you didn’t trust me enough to tell the truth.”

Holtz lifts her head. “I trust you.”

“But you know me, and knew I would yell at you.” Erin sighs. She shifts so she’s facing her, her hand coming up and hovering by Holtz’s cheek.

Holtz nods imperceptibly.

Erin’s knuckles graze her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Holtz’s hand covers hers. “ _I’m_ sorry,” she says. “I love you.”

Erin holds out her other arm and Holtz folds into her, shifting so she’s curled in Erin’s arms.

“How are you doing?” Erin asks softly. “Tomorrow…”

Tomorrow they drive to Jacksonville.

“I’m okay,” Holtz says. “Nervous.”

“To see everyone? Or about how your mom’s doing?”

A pause. “Both.”

“I’m here for you,” Erin promises. “Whatever happens.”

Holtz nods against her chest.

Erin kisses the crown of her head and gazes out the window of the room at the dark shapes beyond it, feeling some kind of unsettled.

It’s almost eight hours to Jacksonville. They’re a little delayed leaving, given the late hour they all end up going to sleep, and by the time they make a few stops for meals and change time zones, it’s late afternoon when they finally exit I-10.

It’s so different than the last time they were here. Erin remembers it vividly. Holtz’s nonchalance as they stopped at a gas station and she announced that her family lived nearby. The way she suggested they go for a visit like it wasn’t a big deal.

Of course, Erin had no way of knowing the significance of that visit. She had no idea that it had been years since Holtz’s last time seeing her parents. Holtz made it seem so casual, like she dropped in on them all the time.

Today, she’s visibly tense as she steers them down vaguely-familiar streets. Erin watches her more than she watches where they’re going.

The sprawling mansion is just as Erin remembers it. Holtz pulls the Ectobus around in front and pulls to a stop.

Patty lets out a low whistle. Her and Abby are clambering at the windows to get a better look.

“Holy shit,” Abby says, jealously tinging her tone.

Holtz cuts the engine and twirls the keys around her finger. “Welcome to Casa Holtzmann,” she says in a flat voice. “Please keep your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside the ride at all times.”

“I feel underdressed,” Patty says.

“You? Never,” Holtz says.

“Last time we were here, I was wearing dirty clothes that I’d been wearing for days and a tacky museum backpack,” Erin murmurs. “You’re good.”

Holtz stands and exits the RV without a further word, and the rest of them follow. Erin grabs her and Holtz’s suitcase and tugs it after her. They’re staying at the house, but Abby and Patty aren’t. They’re going to be joining them for dinner, then taking off for Orlando, where they’ll be spending the day tomorrow. Holtz’s parents invited them to join the family reunion, but they decided they’d rather spend the day at Disney than intrude on the party. They’ll drive back in time for their Jacksonville lecture stop the next day.

The three of them crowd behind Holtz on the porch while she rings the doorbell. She shifts her weight anxiously and Erin gives her a reassuring smile.

It’s Jaclyn who answers the door, and she grins when she sees them.

“Look who finally showed up.”

“Hey, Jac,” Holtz says.

Jaclyn steps aside to let them pile into the foyer. While Patty and Abby are preoccupied taking in the opulence, the grand staircase, Holtz’s paintings lining the walls, Erin fixes her attention on Jaclyn instead.

She looks different than last summer. Her face has thinned out, her frizzy curls hair pulled back into a bun. She’s wearing shorts and a crop top with a political cartoon printed on it.

Holtz grimaces at her. “Did you lose weight?”

Jaclyn rolls her eyes. “I was in the hospital for a month with a nasty virus. I’ll be back to normal by the end of the summer.”

“Good,” Holtz says, distracted-sounding. She cranes her head down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“Everyone’s in the backyard,” Jaclyn says, hooking her thumb. She steps around Holtz. “Hey, you guys must be the rest of the Ghost Gang. I’m Jaclyn, Jillian’s sister.”

Patty snorts. “Can’t believe she lets you call her that.”

Abby sticks her hand out. “Abby Yates.”

Jaclyn shakes it firmly. “That means you must be Patty, then?”

Patty smiles. “Guilty as charged.”

Holtz has started to wander down the hall.

“Nice to see you again, Jaclyn,” Erin murmurs quickly, and then darts after her.

“Not even a hug,” she hears Jaclyn say. “Typical Jillian.”

Abby says something, but Erin can’t make it out. She catches up to Holtz.

“You good?”

They enter the expansive, bright kitchen. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, they can see the crowd in the backyard.

Holtz doesn’t answer, just keeps walking.

“Hey, kiddo,” a man’s voice says.

They both halt, heads turning.

Frank Holtzmann is standing over by the fridge with a glass in his hand.

Holtz’s shoulders sag. “Hey, Dad.”

He sets the glass down on the island and comes around it to hug Holtz.

“We’ve missed you,” he murmurs.

Erin stares at her feet, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

Holtz sniffs and steps out of his embrace. “Dad, you remember Erin?”

“Of course.” He holds his arms open for Erin too.

She lets him pull her in, then step back, holding her by the shoulders.

“Welcome to the family, Erin,” he says sincerely. “We regret that we weren’t able to be at your wedding, but given the circumstances…” He winks.

Erin feels her cheeks redden.

For some reason, it hadn’t yet occurred to her that this was going to be her first time meeting Holtz’s parents as her in-laws. When she met them last time, they weren’t even dating yet.

It seems like ages ago. She can’t even remember a time before they were together.

“It’s nice to meet you again, sir,” she says.

He rolls his eyes and claps her on the shoulder. “None of that, now. It’s ‘Frank’ or bust.” He releases her and turns back to Holtz.

“How is she?” Holtz whispers.

There’s a pause. “She’s happy you’re here to visit.”

It’s not the answer Holtz was looking for. Her gaze goes to the backyard briefly, and she rolls her shoulders back.

She steps in that direction, but at that moment, Abby and Patty come around the corner into the kitchen accompanied by Jaclyn.

“Way to ditch your friends,” Jaclyn says.

Holtz doesn’t seem to hear or notice.

“Um, guys, this is Frank Holtzmann,” Erin jumps in nervously. “Frank—Abby and Patty, our teammates and friends.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Frank says.

“Holtzy’s dad?” Patty extends her hand. “I have so many questions.”

Holtz is wandering again. Erin abandons the conversation to follow her to the sliding door, where she pauses for a brief moment. Nobody notices them.

“I’m here,” Erin says quiet enough that only Holtz will hear.

Holtz nods slowly, then tugs the door open.

Everyone in the backyard turns at the sound. A mix of expressions stare back at them—some indifferent, some curious, and one…

“Jillian.” The tired lines in Ann Holtzmann’s worn face soften in peace. “Welcome home.”

_all the things that you detest in me_

_they keep you coming back for more, you see_

_we make each other get a bit crazy_

_but you will always be a part of me_


	6. burn out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written (+ another 5000 words) for literally months but couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with it/if I wanted to split it into multiple chapters or what, and I finally decided to just pick something already and deal with the consequences later so here you go! Sorry it's been like four months I don't know how that happened tbh

[burn out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcJ6Vv9pMeA)

_sadness is my enemy_

_I fear time will age him gently_

_walking by my side for all these years_

_seems that we've grown friendly_

“Hey, Mom.” Holtz’s voice shakes slightly.

For a few seconds, Erin can only stare, and then she regains her composure and tears her gaze away, fixing it on her wife instead.

She had been holding out hope. Hope that Holtz’s mother would look the same as she did two years ago, that she wouldn’t look sick, that she really was okay.

She watches Holtz’s face shift in pain as she takes her in herself.

The difference in her is startling.

She’s aged ten years in two. Her skin is sunken and pale. She was slender before, but now she’s a stick, her bones jutting out prominently, visible.

Holtz shuffles forward like a zombie until she reaches her mother’s wheelchair—changed from manual to motorized since the last time they were here. She kneels on the concrete in front of her and takes both her hands.

“We missed you,” Ann says. Her speech is laboured, slightly slurred. Her throat muscles must be affected.

“I missed you,” Holtz says quietly, her head bowed.

Now more than ever, Erin feels like she’s intruding on something private, sacred. She turns her head.

Jaclyn steps out onto the patio beside her as Erin is surveying the rest of the group.

Jacob sits on a grey wicker sectional with his wife, Kelsey, beside him. She’s bent, tending to the baby in front of her, who’s standing with his fists gripping the edge of the coffee table. Jacob avoids Erin’s eyes.

A young girl runs around in the grass beyond the patio, attempting periodic cartwheels. Further back, in the shade under the treehouse, an older boy is sitting and reading a book. Neither of them seem to notice their arrival.

Adjacent to the couch, Jade is sprawled in a chair. She, too, looks different—she’s chopped off all her hair and bleached it. It’s a far cry from the past-the-shoulders deep brown that Erin remembers from last time, although she has to admit that she looks more like her adoptive siblings as a blonde.

She’s still glued to her phone, though, so that hasn’t changed.

Erin’s eyes drift back to Holtz and her mother.

“She looks worse than she is,” Jaclyn says, low enough that only Erin can hear.

Erin glances at her.

Jaclyn shrugs one shoulder. “It’s too hard for her to swallow now, so she wasn’t eating enough. Wasting away. They installed a feeding tube last time she was at the hospital, and she already looks way better.”

Erin looks back at Holtz’s mom. It’s hard to imagine how she could look worse.

Erin has been gravely overestimating how much time she has left. She realizes that, now.

Holtz must be realizing it too. She has to be.

“Erin.”

Erin is shaken from her thoughts at the sound of Holtz’s voice. Her wife is standing now and looking back at her, motioning for her to come closer.

Erin crosses the patio with weak legs to join Holtz. As she reaches Ann, she remembers that she’s a hugger—but she looks too breakable to hug. Erin crouches in front of her and settles for taking her hand like Holtz did.

“Erin,” Ann says. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Erin murmurs. “It’s really good to see you again.”

Ann’s hand slips out from under Erin’s, her thumb coming up to run over the slender band on Erin’s ring finger. She stares down at it for a long pause, and then looks up at Erin. Her eyes glisten.

“Thank you,” she says in barely more than a whisper. “You kept your promise.”

Erin swallows and feels tears spring to her own eyes. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to find what words to say, but eventually just nods.

_“Don’t let her push you out too. She’ll try. She gets scared and runs when things get hard. Keep that in mind.”_

That was the last thing Ann said to her before they left Jacksonville last time.

A warning, advice, but also a plea. _Don’t let her push you out too_.

_I won’t let her,_ Erin had promised.

That was before they were even dating. Before she had even realized that she was in love with Holtz. Before things fell apart, and fell apart again, and again. Before she knew just how hard she’d have to fight to keep Holtz from running away. Before she knew how difficult of a promise it would be to keep.

But here she is. Here they are.

Back in the place that she vowed they’d come back to one day.

She never thought they’d come back like this.

She looks up at Holtz. Her face is unreadable. She’s staring off in the distance.

“All my children, together,” Ann says happily. “Finally.”

“Not yet,” Jaclyn says with a sigh.

Holtz comes back from the other world she was in. “When’s Jenna getting in?”

Jaclyn rolls her eyes. “Not until tomorrow. She says she ‘can’t leave work.’” Her voice slips into a robotic drone for the last three words. “She’ll roll up an hour late to the party and will be on the phone the entire time she’s here. Guarantee it.”

“Stop that,” Ann chastises.

“It’s true,” Jaclyn mutters.

“Where’d Abby and Patty go?” Holtz asks suddenly, like she’s just remembered about them.

“They were talking with your dad, I think,” Erin says.

As if on cue, the sliding door opens again and Frank ushers Abby and Patty out onto the patio.

Ann’s face lights up.

Holtz does a hurried round of introductions, skipping over the kids entirely, and then there’s a big shuffling as Frank orders people to make room on the furniture.

Erin, despite her best efforts, ends up crammed beside Kelsey. The baby is sitting on the concrete a few feet away now, playing with blocks.

Erin is going to at least try to be conversational. She’s going to make an effort, even if Jacob and Kelsey won’t. Even if Holtz won’t.

“How old is, um…”

Kelsey gives her a look and sighs like she’s trying to decide if Erin should be punished for Holtz’s behavior in the past.

“Albert,” she supplies finally. “He’ll be nine months next week.”

“Wow, that big already?”

Kelsey nods, a whisper of a smile tugging at her lips.

Erin smiles hesitantly, encouragingly. “You don’t hear a lot of Albert’s nowadays. I like it.”

Kelsey pauses, the smile vanishing from her face. “It’s after my father,” she says, voice tight. “He passed last June.”

Erin’s blood runs cold.

“I’m sorry,” she manages to get out.

Last June.

It was last July when she and Holtz showed up unannounced at Jacob and Kelsey’s doorstep in Silicon Valley. Early July, at that.

A month. Less than a month. Hell, it could have been less than a week.

It’s no wonder they were treated the way they were. They couldn’t have chosen worse timing if they tried.

Kelsey opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. Erin looks back at the baby.

“How old are Noah and Madison, again?” she asks, partly to prove that she knows _their_ names, at least.

“Noah is seven, and Madison will be five in August.”

“What are they like?” Erin asks earnestly.

Kelsey hesitates. “Noah is a quiet soul. He’ll get lost in books for days. And he’s so creative. He makes these wire figurines and makes stop-motion movies with them. It’s incredible. He writes poems, too. Incredibly profound for how young he is. He’s going to be a big deal one day.” She looks back over her shoulder at Noah sitting in the grass. “The unassuming kind of big deal. He doesn’t like people much, but lots of artists don’t.”

Erin nods in agreement.

“And Madison…” Kelsey sighs and looks back at Erin. “She’s our wild child. Completely unpredictable. Loud. She’s the furthest from ‘unassuming’ you can get. Her favourite thing to pretend is that she’s a manager. I’d say twice a week I find her in her room, firing her stuffed animals for poor performance.” She pauses. “She terrifies me.”

Erin laughs lightly. “Where’d she pick that up from?”

“Jenna, without a doubt,” Kelsey says dryly.

Erin blinks. “Do the kids see her often?”

“We try to visit Florida a couple times a year,” Kelsey says. “She also comes out west on business pretty frequently, so we get to see her then, too.”

“She travels for work a lot?”

“All over the country,” Kelsey confirms. “I’d say she spends more time on the road than she does in Miami.”

“She must come to New York,” Erin murmurs, more to herself than to Kelsey.

“Constantly,” Kelsey says. “Probably there for a third of the year, at least. Their head office is in Miami, but their biggest branch is in Manhattan.”

Erin feels sick again.

Kelsey catches her face. “To be fair, she’s hard to pin down,” she mutters. “If we want to see her when she’s in California, we have to force the matter.”

That makes Erin feel a little better, but still. When was the last time Holtz saw her older sister?

The other side of the country is one thing, but if she really spends as much time in the city as Kelsey says, then there’s no excuse.

“Ah, damn it,” Kelsey says suddenly. “That’s his pooping face.”

It takes Erin a second to realize what the hell she’s talking about, and by that point Kelsey has already risen from the couch and is walking over to Albert. She scoops him up and starts back towards the door.

She pauses in front of Erin.

“Do you want to continue this conversation inside?” she asks.

Erin blinks in surprise. “Um, yeah, of course.”

She gets up and follows Kelsey, shooting a quick glance at Holtz as she goes—but her wife is engrossed in a conversation with her mom and doesn’t seem to notice her departure.

Once Erin steps back inside the air-conditioned house, she realizes how warm she was starting to get outside.

“He didn’t actually poop,” Kelsey says immediately, setting Albert on the floor over in front of the couch and taking a seat herself. “I just wanted to talk to you in private.”

“Oh,” Erin says awkwardly. “Um…”

Kelsey sweeps her hand. “Take a seat.”

Erin sits gingerly on the edge of an ottoman across from Kelsey.

Kelsey sighs before beginning. “Erin, I…feel like I didn’t give a good first impression last summer.”

Erin starts to protest, but Kelsey waves her off.

“You have to understand something,” she says. “I love my husband very much. I loved Jillian, too. There was a time when we were like sisters. Did she tell you she was supposed to be a bridesmaid?”

Erin’s throat is dry. “No,” she manages to get out. “She did not.”

“Jacob was furious when she left, but devastated. Her absence was felt by everyone at the wedding. Mom—Ann, I mean…my mother wasn’t there—thought it was something Jacob did and chewed him out for it. Jacob wouldn’t tell her the truth about the fight, of course. She still doesn’t know about anything…Denmark or the lawsuit. In many ways she thinks Jillian can do no wrong. She’s Ann’s favourite, you know.”

Erin’s brow crinkles. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Kelsey lets out a short laugh. “Never mind that Jillian has only come to see her a couple of times in the past decade and she never calls. It’s always ‘Jenna works too much,’ ‘Jacob and Jaclyn live too far away,’ ‘Jade is too distant,’ but with Jillian it’s ‘poor thing is so hard at work, I’m so proud of her, I know she’d visit if she could.’ It’s never her fault. We’ve heard every update about her life in the past eight years whether we wanted to or not.

“She worries so much about her,” Kelsey continues. “The number of times Ann has tried to convince Jake to reach out—as if he hasn’t _tried_ —and it’s always the same thing. She has no idea. She has no idea how much pain Jillian has caused my family. She has no idea the destruction she’s caused.” Kelsey shakes her head. “We almost came here without the kids. We’re not sure that we’re ready.”

“I’m trying to understand, I really am,” Erin says. “I know that she’s hurt you and Jacob, but…what are you so worried about? Why have you tried to keep your children from her? Is it really that hard to explain that they probably won’t see her much?”

Kelsey shakes her head again. “Jillian is unpredictable. She’s flighty, sure, but you know that. It’s not that they’d never see her. It’s that we have no idea what she’ll say to them. She acts without thinking. She’s impulsive, and she can be downright cruel. We don’t want to expose our children to that.”

Erin has a brief flash of Emily’s tear-stained cheeks last summer.

“You need to give her more credit than that,” Erin says. “She wouldn’t hurt them.”

Kelsey gives her a long look. “I don’t think you know her as well as you think you do.”

“It’s been eight years since the last time you saw her—last summer aside,” Erin says. “Have you considered that she’s changed? I’m not saying that she’s perfect, but she’s been through a lot in her life and she’s actively trying to work through it and be better. Even in the last year, she’s changed dramatically.”

Kelsey appraises her for a moment. “Did she ever tell you about this?” She reaches up to touch the long scar down the side of her face, her glass eye fixed on Erin.

Erin shakes her head.

“Domestic violence,” Kelsey says curtly.

Erin’s eyes go wide, her gaze darting to the patio door unintentionally.

“Not Jacob,” Kelsey says with exasperation. “He’s the one who got me out, actually. We were friends. He’s been by my side every step of the way. Healing. Therapy. Testifying against my abuser. It hasn’t been easy. I still wake up screaming some nights.”

“I’m sorry,” Erin murmurs.

Kelsey levels a gaze at her. “What I’m getting at is that we all have our shit, okay? But some of us—” She tilts her head at the sliding door— “use it as an excuse.”

There’s a beat.

“What are you trying to imply?” Erin whispers.

Kelsey’s voice is hard. “All I’m saying is that I’ve ‘been through a lot’ in my life too, but I still manage to be a good mother, wife, daughter, and friend.”

Erin looks down at her hands, tensed into fists.

“Something to think about,” Kelsey says. She stands from the couch. “By the way, I guess I should say congratulations.”

Erin looks up. Kelsey is gazing down at her fists as well, fixed on the ring on Erin’s left hand.

Erin covers it self-consciously. “Thanks,” she replies, voice strained.

Kelsey meets her eyes, and they hold eye contact for several long seconds.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but then seems to think better of it, turning her head and bending to scoop Albert up again.

She leaves without saying another word.

Erin sits there in stunned silence for a minute, then glances at the door. Everyone outside continues to talk, not paying any attention to her.

She rises and makes for the hallway in a bit of a stupor, not really realizing where she’s going until she’s halfway up the grand staircase.

The upstairs hall is just as she remembers it; pictures cover the wall, stretching from one end to the other.

She knows what she’s looking for without even thinking about it. She steps back, trying to orient herself in the chronological timeline of the lives of the Holtzmann family.

It takes her no time at all to find it. A few feet to the right of the high-school pictures that Erin remembers seeing last time.

She steps right up to the wall, fingers outstretched to touch the edge of the black frame, and swallows the lump in her throat.

19-year-old Holtz stands in front of some foliage at NYU, swimming in a purple gown, her mortarboard askew on her head. Her eyes don’t meet the camera. She is not smiling.

Somehow, Erin doesn’t doubt that this was the best photo they were able to get of her.

She leaves the convocation photo, unable to look at it anymore, and keeps walking to the right. The further she progresses down the hall towards the present day, the fewer photos of Holtz there are on the wall. By the time she gets to the end, where there are photos of the Ghostbusters cut from newspapers, she understands more than ever why they’re on the wall, as out-of-place as they look.

There’s nothing else. If not for those, it would look like Holtz stopped existing.

There are several additions since the last time Erin was here, but the photo that stands out the most to her is a printout of a photo that Erin knows well. It’s the one they used when they posted their marriage announcement across all of the Ghostbusters social media accounts.

Patty was the one who took it, after proclaiming that the selfies they took in Vegas weren’t going to cut it. Out of all of them, she has the most followers on her personal accounts, so they left it up to her creative direction. She staged several photos that felt way too unnatural to Erin, but the one that Patty ended up using was a complete fluke, a candid in between poses as Erin had tried to catch up on some work.

In it, she’s sitting at her desk, her back to the camera but her head turned to the left, where Holtz is sitting on the edge, feet dangling. Erin’s right hand is holding her pencil, but her left is resting on the desk. Holtz’s hand is covering it in such a way that you can see both of their rings, but it’s subtle. She’s grinning, having just said something funny, and Erin is mid-laughter, distracted from her work.

It’s a good shot. One of Erin’s favourites. Patty hadn’t even looked at the staged photos after she got this one. She had posted it with the simple caption _Dr. & Dr. _and an interlocking rings emoji.

It’s strange, a little surreal, to see the photo framed and hung on this wall with all the other ones. She supposes it’s the closest they’re ever going to have to an engagement or wedding photo.

One of the largest frames on the wall is from Jacob’s wedding, the family gathered around the bride and groom.

Kelsey was right. Holtz’s absence is noticeable. The whole group looks unbalanced. Like there’s a piece missing.

Erin gives the wall one last painful look, and then she turns on her heel and walks away, trying hard not to cry as she does so.

Back downstairs, Erin joins the others again, and nobody asks where she’s been. Holtz doesn’t even seem to notice that she ever went inside.

She sits on the opposite side of the patio as Kelsey and Jacob this time, opting to sit by Patty instead.

“You okay?” Patty asks quietly.

Erin nods discreetly. “It’s just a lot.”

“I feel you. It’s not at all what I was expecting. Neither are they.”

Erin gazes across the yard. “Imagine coming in not even knowing that she _had_ a family.”

Patty shakes her head. “Crazy.”

“Crazy,” Erin repeats in a murmur.

Dinner is a chaotic affair, but casual. They fire up the pair of shiny grills on the patio and Frank and Jaclyn barbeque up enough food for the whole crowd.

Erin feels a little guilty eating in front of Holtz’s mom, who puts on a brave smile and even jokes around as she gets her own meal courtesy of her feeding tube. There’s a pain in her eyes, though.

That said, it’s hard to confidently assume that that’s the source of the pain.

After they’ve finished eating, some people head inside, others choosing to remain out on in the summer air. Ann’s ready to go inside, and Holtz follows her like she’s magnetized. Erin follows both of them, and Abby and Patty trail after as well.

The four of them settle into the living room couches. Ann pauses by her armchair.

There’s a long beat.

“I’ll get your father,” she says apologetically.

Holtz’s face drops as she realizes that her mother can no longer get in and out of her chair by herself. Her surprise worries Erin—is she that in denial that she looks at her and can’t even see how sick she is?

She scrambles up from the couch. “Don’t be stupid. I can do it.”

Ann starts to protest, but Holtz is already there, bending and awkwardly scooping her up into her arms.

“Jesus, Mom, do you have bird bones?”

Holtz says it in what sounds like it’s meant to be a teasing tone, but her voice wavers and falls flat. She gently lowers Ann into the armchair and straightens up, turning her head.

Erin still catches a glimpse of the pain on her face.

Holtz mumbles something about needing to pee, and quickly ducks away before any of them can respond. Her feet thump up the stairs.

Ann immediately asks Abby and Patty a question to fill the awkward silence, then sits back and lets them carry the conversation. Erin is only half-listening, distracted waiting for her wife to come back. She idly wonders at what point she should go check on her.

Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes before Holtz comes back downstairs, face smooth again. She joins right back into the conversation, joking around like everything is normal and fine.

Erin doesn’t understand her. She can’t keep up.

Ann, at least, seems happy—overjoyed, even—to be meeting the rest of her daughter’s friends at last. She keeps them talking with only minimal prods, inquiring about everything from the Ghostbusters to their personal lives. They talk about their own families, like Erin did. They don’t ask any questions about Holtz’s childhood, though, like Erin did—probably out of consideration for the effort it takes Ann to speak.

They’re talking about Kevin when Holtz’s phone starts ringing.

She removes it from her pocket and glances at the screen, her mouth pressing into a hard line. Erin expects her to ignore the call, but Holtz surprises her by answering.

“Bonjour.” Holtz sighs. “Merci, mais ça ne m'intéresse toujours pas.”

Erin frowns.

Holtz shoots them an apologetic look and then turns, lowering her voice. “Je ne peux pas le faire maintenant…je comprends, mais—non, non. Si je devais avoir une exposition, je voudrais être là…peut-être l'année prochaine, mais je ne peux pas vous promettre. D’accord. Au revoir.”

She hangs up.

“Who was that?” Erin asks.

“Nobody,” Holtz says.

“An exhibit of what?” Patty asks.

Holtz looks at her. “I’m surprised you got that.”

Patty crosses her arms. “You’re not the only one who can speak French. What exhibit, and why would you want to be there?”

“Guess I can’t really hide it,” Holtz says through gritted teeth. “This art gallery has been pestering me to showcase my work for a few months. In France.”

There’s a beat. Erin blinks. “Oh my god—that’s amazing, Holtz!”

Holtz rolls her eyes at Erin. “I said no. Obviously.”

“Why?” the four of them say in varying levels of shock.

Ann looks the least surprised of all of them, both by the news and by Holtz saying no.

Holtz gestures her head at Patty. “I’d want to be there. And that’s not exactly in the cards right now. I told them maybe next year.”

“Meaning…what, you’d go to France?” Erin asks slowly.

“Don’t freak out,” Holtz says. “This is why I said no. Obviously we would have to talk about it before it would ever happen. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you could,” Abby says, an edge to her voice.

Holtz shrugs one shoulder and glances at her mother. “Not in the cards,” she repeats.

Erin slumps back against the couch in disbelief, caught up in _has been pestering me_ , meaning that this isn’t the first time they’ve called.

Is this the same as the Michigan number that keeps phoning her? Does it matter, if Holtz was willing to keep both from her?

Erin’s gut says no.

“But next year?” Patty pushes.

“I don’t know, okay?” Holtz says testily. “I said _maybe_. Clearly we’re not going to be doing _this_ in a year, so why not?”

“ _Clearly_ ,” Abby parrots snidely.

Holtz gives her a hard look. “Do you have something to say, Abby? I thought we were on a _sinking ship?_ ” Her Abby imitation is unflattering, whiny.

Abby crosses her arms, ice in her eyes.

“Guys, drop it,” Erin pleads quietly, embarrassed that they’d fight in front of Holtz’s family.

“All I’m saying is that I don’t see anyone throwing millions in my face to bust ghosts,” Holtz mutters. “Maybe it’s time for me to weigh my options.”

“How nice for you to have options,” Abby spits. “Some of us will go down with this ship, thank you very much.”

Ann’s forehead creases. “Do you still need investors?”

All four pairs of eyes turn to her.

“No, Mom,” Holtz says quickly. “We’re fine.”

Patty waves at her to be quiet. “Wait, you wanna give us money?”

Ann still looks troubled. “I’ve asked Jillian about investment opportunities a few times. She wouldn’t give me an answer.”

“We don’t need your money,” Abby says, and it comes across crueler than she probably intended.

“Hold up,” Patty says, waving her off as well. “We definitely do.”

“No,” Abby and Holtz say at the same time, which is the first time they’ve agreed on anything in months.

“Save your money, Mom,” Holtz says. “The Ghostbusters are already dying.” She flinches ever-so-slightly at the word.

“Save it for what? I don’t need it.”

Abby stands abruptly. “Patty, we need to get going.”

Patty makes a face. “Come on, dude, let’s not be stupid about this—”

Abby is already walking towards the hallway. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Holtzmann. Thanks for inviting us.”

Ann looks crushed.

Patty sighs and stands as well. “I guess we’re leaving. Thanks for everything, and we appreciate the offer.”

“You’re very welcome,” Ann says, sounding dejected. “Please come again.”

Patty stoops to give her a careful hug before following Abby, not stopping to say goodbye to anyone outside. Erin pulls Holtz from the couch to join them, although she has half a mind to keep her away from Abby. It looks like she has some choice words to say to her.

Sure enough, they’ve barely made it out onto the front porch when Holtz turns on Abby.

“You cannot talk to my mother like that,” she barks. “She’s just trying to help.”

“Listen, I know where _you’re_ from you call that ‘help,’ but I call it a bail-out, and I’m not interested. The Ghostbusters are _clearly_ already dying, so why don’t you do us all a favour and just go running off to France with your wife and your millions now, so this company can die with even a shred of dignity left?”

Erin exchanges a wide-eyed glance with Patty.

Holtz’s fists are balled by her sides. “Jesus Christ, Abby, what is your _problem?”_

“My problem? My problem, Holtz?”

“Yeah, what, is it that I came from money? Jesus, Abby, I can’t help that, alright? What do you want me to do, go back in time and stop my ancestors from being successful? Stop myself from selling my artwork? Stop—”

_“Stop_. You don’t fucking get it. My problem isn’t that you have money, it’s that you have an _out_.”

Holtz stares at her. “What?”

“You are a runner, Holtzmann. You both are.” She jabs her finger at Erin. “You two are runners. You _leave_. And now we’re going up in flames and _you_ have an out. You have something to fall back on. And you are going to run and you are going to _leave_ me and Patty behind.”

“That’s not—”

Erin’s heart thumps in her chest. “Abby, we would never—”

“Don’t. Don’t start. I’m over this.”

Abby wipes at her eyes as she pushes past them off the porch, leaving both of them standing there in shock.

Patty exhales. “Shit.”

Holtz stares after Abby for a few moments, face a mask, and then she roots in her pocket for the keys to the Ectobus and shoves them at Patty’s chest, then turns and goes back inside, slamming the door behind her.

“Shit,” Erin echoes.

There’s a pause.

“I’ll try to talk to Abby,” Patty says grimly.

“I’ll…” Erin trails off, unsure what exactly she _can_ do.

“Yeah.” Patty sighs. “See you on Tuesday.”

“Drive safe,” Erin murmurs.

Patty nods with a half-hearted wave, then jogs down the porch steps and to the Ectobus.

Erin is already turning away.

Inside the house, Holtz has mysteriously vanished.

Erin wanders through the living room and even pokes her head back outside, but can’t find her.

“Did she go back upstairs?” she wonders aloud.

“Yes,” Ann answers, startling her.

“Oh,” Erin says, face turning red. She hovers over by the couch, debating if she should go hunt down her wife or wait for her to return.

Ann makes up her mind for her.

“How are you, Erin?”

Erin pauses, then steps closer. “I’m…”

How _is_ she, really?

When was the last time someone asked her that and really meant it, really wanted to know, like Ann does?

“It’s been a difficult couple of years,” she answers honestly.

Ann nods slowly. “And how is she?”

Erin takes even longer to answer this one, fearing honesty will break this poor woman.

She lands on, “She’s different.”

It’s the truth, but is it?

Ann contemplates that with poorly-disguised concern.

There was something else Erin had promised Holtz’s mom that fateful day two years ago.

_“If she doesn’t take care of herself, can I count on you to take care of her?”_

_I’ll do my best_ , Erin had said.

Erin steps closer until she’s right beside the armchair and drops into a crouch. She’s not sure that she’s going to get another chance to speak to Ann alone like this.

She takes her worn hand and drops her head slightly, meeting Ann’s eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about her any more,” Erin promises. “I’m taking care of her.”

The intensity in Ann’s eyes startles her. “But are you taking care of yourself?”

Taken aback, Erin pulls away slightly.

She opens and closes her mouth. “I’m doing my best.”

“Erin,” a voice says behind her.

She turns. Frank has joined them with a grim expression.

He shifts with discomfort. “We wouldn’t blame you.”

She frowns, not understanding. “For what?”

He glances at Ann, then back at her. “She’s not your responsibility. If there comes a point when you can’t do it any more…”

Oh.

Erin shrinks back, understanding now.

“What, you’re giving me permission to…leave her?” The words sound foreign coming from her mouth. Wrong. “That’s…that’s messed up.”

Frank grimaces. “That’s not what we want, of course, but…circumstances can change.”

“I love her,” Erin says firmly.

“I know,” Frank says. He presses his lips together, then sighs. “But we also know our daughter well.”

“So do I,” Erin says. Her hands fidget by her sides. She digs the pad of her thumb into her wedding band and looks back and forth between them. “You don’t think we’re going to make it, do you? Nobody does.”

Frank looks guilty. “Please don’t be offended. It’s nothing on you, Erin.”

“No, I understand perfectly,” Erin says. “You know what? I don’t care what you think—any of you. Nobody knows my marriage but me and Holtz. Just because she doesn’t have the greatest track record with the relationships in her life—just because she’s run away in the past—just because she’s a little emotionally messed up—that doesn’t mean that our marriage is doomed. And it _definitely_ doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away from her. That’s not who I am. I’m not a runner.”

As she says it, she wonders who she’s saying it for. All she can see in her head is Abby’s hurt face.

Frank holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Erin. We really are rooting for you.”

Erin shakes her head and steps backwards, unable to look at either of them now that she knows their true feelings. “I think I’d better go.”

With that, she turns for the stairs. Neither of them say another word as she leaves.

Upstairs, Erin pauses outside of Holtz’s closed bedroom door, taking a moment to calm herself down.

Then she lifts her head, nose wrinkling.

She smells smoke.

Heart pounding suddenly, she throws the door open.

Holtz is sitting on the bed, dark grey smoke rising from a metal trash can in front of her.

Erin rushes over. “What the hell, Holtz?”

At the bottom of the can, a couple of picture frames are engulfed in flames, the pictures inside blackened beyond identification. Something stirs inside Erin and she looks over her shoulder, suspicions confirmed: the desk behind her is free of photos.

She remembers what was on the desk before. A photo of Holtz and Leah, her face already burnt by the end of a cigarette. And what started it all—a photo of Holtz pregnant that had sent Erin into a tailspin last time she was here.

She looks back at the small blaze in the garbage can and waves away the smoke.

“This is so dangerous,” she says. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm.” She glances overhead. “Or the sprinklers.”

“Sprinklers react to heat, not smoke,” Holtz says in a flat voice.

Erin takes a good look at her for the first time.

Holtz’s face is blank, dark. Her head is bent, eyes not on the fire in the trash can but rather on the thick photo album in her lap. There’s a click and hiss, click and hiss, and Erin’s eyes go to the lighter in her hand, the tiny flame appearing and disappearing over and over.

“Please don’t do something impulsive,” Erin says, voice careful now, taking a hesitant step closer, slowly, like she’s trying not to frighten her.

Holtz doesn’t respond.

Erin inches closer. The photo album is open. She tries to get a glimpse of what page she’s on.

Holtz slams the book shut right before she can get a good look, and Erin jumps.

“Are you oka—” she starts to ask.

But before she can finish the question, Holtz has flicked the lighter and is holding it to the cover.

It goes up before Erin can blink, flames peeling up the spine and dancing across the jacket.

“Holtz!” Erin lunges forward, adrenaline taking over as she snatches the burning album from Holtz’s startled grasp. Her head snaps back and forth as she looks for somewhere to take it, then she runs for the door, relying on her memory to guide her to the closest bathroom.

She holds the book as far away from her body as she can as she runs, but she can feel the heat coming off it, the flames inching closer to her hands.

She reaches the bathroom and throws the album into the bathtub, torn for half a moment about the possibility of water damage on the photos—but then remembering that it’s that or fire damage. She cranks the faucet full blast.

She sinks to the tiled floor and flexes her fingers, some of which are stinging.

“Are you hurt?”

Erin’s head whips over her shoulder and she narrows her gaze at Holtz, who at least has the grace to look sorry.

“Go get the other one,” Erin snaps.

Holtz hangs her head and disappears. She comes back 30 seconds later with the still-smoking trash can and reaches past Erin to drop it in the tub, then hops up to sit on the edge of the counter. Her heel thuds against the cabinet door below.

“That was really stupid,” she says dully.

Erin can’t even look at her. “That was _dangerous_ ,” she corrects. “You could’ve burned your parents’ house down, Holtz.”

“It’s like you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to. I’m good with fire,” Holtz argues.

Erin looks back at her sharply. “What was your game plan?” She gestures at the charred cover of the photo album. “At what point would you have put it out? When it started burning your lap? When it spread to your bed?”

Holtz rolls her eyes. Erin doesn’t miss it.

“I don’t need attitude, Holtzmann.” She reaches out and stops the tap, the fires sufficiently extinguished. “I know it’s hard for you to be here, but that doesn’t mean you can go around lighting stuff on fire. I can’t babysit you 24/7.”

Holtz glares. “You’re not my mother.”

“Your _mother_ can barely talk right now, so she’s not about to yell at you for burning down her house.”

Erin flinches, regretting the words before they’re even out of her mouth, but Holtz’s expression smooths out.

“Touché,” she says, and smiles the goofy smile that Erin loves so much. She hops off the counter and stoops to fish the soggy photo album from the tub. “Sorry for being a melodramatic dumbass. Next time I’ll burn my unwanted memories in a controlled environment like a responsible adult.”

Erin stands, frowning at the sudden shift in Holtz, back to goofing around like everything is normal. Like they’re not in Jacksonville. Like her mom isn’t sick.

Holtz gives the album a shake, spraying droplets of water down into the bath, and then cracks it open. She surveys the page, pulls out a photo from the plastic sleeve and holds it between her teeth, flips to the next page.

“Like it or not, that’s your life,” Erin murmurs. “Please don’t destroy it.”

Holtz doesn’t respond, just flips the page again. She abruptly slams the book shut a moment later, tucking it under her arm. She plucks the photo from between her teeth and slaps it to Erin’s chest.

Erin grabs it before it can fall to the ground.

“Would you?” Holtz asks, and then picks her way over the puddle on the floor and out of the room, the album still under her arm, dripping in a trail after her.

Erin flips the photo over and studies it for a long moment, and then she shoves it into her pocket and leaves the bathroom and its mess behind.

_patience only gets you so far_

_blood will get you further_

_pain will only make your heart hard_

_tossed in furious weather_

**Author's Note:**

> [Let's be friends?](http://holtzin.tumblr.com)


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